


Facing Fears

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Animals, Fear, Fluff and Smut, Horror, M/M, Smut, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 17:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18743464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Post-Undiscovered Country, Carisi tracks Barba to his hideaway. The cabin isn't quite as peaceful as it first seems, though.I really have no idea how to tag this. I guess...maybe don't read it if you don't like stuff like The X-Files?





	Facing Fears

Carisi climbed out of the car and stood for a moment, looking at the cabin. He’d seen a picture and yet it still wasn’t quite what he’d expected. Small, rustic. Remote. Surrounded by forest. Carisi knew there was a lake not far away, but he couldn’t see it.

He closed the car door and rubbed his palms on his thighs, working up his nerve. He wasn’t sure what type of reception to expect. He drew a breath, savoring the scent of pine and fresh air, and started toward the cabin. He’d only made it a few steps before the door opened and a man stepped out onto the porch.

He was dressed in jeans and a black-and-red plaid flannel shirt over a gray turtleneck. His hair was shaggy, unstyled. His beard was thicker than Carisi had ever seen it—a week’s growth, probably—but neatly trimmed and heavily streaked with gray.

Carisi couldn’t read the other man’s expression, and he fidgeted nervously. “Hey,” he said.

“I’d ask how you found me, but I wouldn’t want to inadvertently insult your skills as a detective.”

Carisi smiled. “I always thought you enjoyed that,” he answered.

“I said _inadvertently_ ,” Barba answered with a small smile of his own. Carisi was encouraged, and he walked to the bottom of the steps, looking up at the other man. “Why are you here, Detective?” Barba asked. There was no anger or accusation in his voice, just a quiet, resigned curiosity.

“Maybe I missed the insults,” Carisi said.

Another small smile, and a slight arch of an eyebrow. “Next time I’m in town, I’ll see if I can find a derogatory postcard to mail in your direction,” he offered, and Carisi laughed. Barba regarded him for a few moments before saying, “Long drive for a little verbal flagellation.”

“Maybe I wanted to see for myself that you were okay,” Carisi allowed.

Barba lifted his gaze over Carisi’s head and scanned the forest, letting out a soft breath. “I’m alright,” he said, and Carisi could almost believe him. “I suppose propriety suggests I should invite you inside.”

“Only if you want,” Carisi answered, offering a crooked smile when Barba’s eyes returned to his. “I’d hate to impose.”

Barba gave a soft chuff of amusement. “Since when?” he returned, and Carisi’s smile stretched into a grin. Barba touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth, giving the forest another quick survey before nodding. “Come on in,” he said, pulling open the screen door. He held it while Carisi made his way up the steps and across the porch. “Seriously, how’d you find me?” he asked as the detective preceded him into the cabin.

“You used your grandmother’s maiden name when you bought this place,” Carisi said, not bothering to hide his curiosity as he surveyed the inside of the small cabin. There was a fire crackling in the stone fireplace in the living room, and the end table beside the sofa held a book with a folded pair of glasses resting on top. He couldn’t see into the bedroom, but the tiny kitchen was neat and clean, and the place was warm; cozy. Carisi was glad. He’d been worried about what state he might find Barba in.

“Hmm,” Barba answered as he closed the inner door. “I didn’t think anyone would care to look that hard.”

Carisi turned to face him. “No? Not even your friends?”

Barba grimaced slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant, you know…” He sighed, looking around. “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure. Got any beer?”

“No. There’s a little store not far from here, it’s about a ten minute walk through the woods, but if you drive—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Carisi said. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

Barba hesitated. “Scotch, red wine, milk, orange juice. Or water,” he said. He frowned, looking around again, and Carisi got the impression he was trying to see the place through Carisi’s eyes. “I don’t, um…I haven’t had any visitors,” he admitted, his gaze sliding back to Carisi’s.

“I’m not a big scotch drinker. Maybe wine?” Carisi suggested.

“Sure,” Barba said, heading toward the kitchen, seeming relieved to have something to do with himself.

“So, you walk to the store?” Carisi asked, trailing slowly behind him and stopping at the edge of the linoleum so Barba wouldn’t feel crowded in the small kitchen. “I didn’t see a car.”

“Walk, yes. Or…” Barba trailed off as he pulled two glasses from a cupboard. His back was to Carisi, and he moved to the refrigerator for the bottle of wine without finishing.

“Or?” Carisi prompted after a few moments.

Barba cleared his throat. “Or…there’s a bicycle.”

“You ride a bike?” Carisi asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Barba glanced back over his shoulder with a scowl. “Your tone of disbelief is insulting,” he said.

Carisi laughed and held up his hands, palms-out. “Sorry,” he said, but as soon as Barba had turned back to the bottle of wine, he couldn’t help but ask: “Does it have a little basket on the front?”

“On the back, actually,” Barba answered without missing a beat, and Carisi laughed again. Barba was smiling when he turned with two glasses of wine in his hands. “And for your information, I haven’t fallen off once.”

“That’s good,” Carisi said, taking the glass that Barba held toward him. Their fingers brushed, and Barba drew his hand back quickly, turning his gaze toward the living room. “You worry about bears up here?” Carisi asked as Barba walked past him.

“That’s what the beard is for, to scare them off,” Barba said, casting him a sidelong look. “There’s a family of foxes hanging around, though. And if you’re up at dawn, you can see the deer come up to the porch.” He hesitated, halfway to the living room. “I mean…a person can,” he added awkwardly without looking back.

“Hey, I get it, you weren’t inviting me to stay the night,” Carisi said, following him toward the living room. He watched to see if Barba was going to sit on the sofa, or in the armchair. The sofa was facing the fireplace, with its back to the open space between the living room and kitchen.

“There aren’t any hotels nearby,” Barba said, still not looking back. “If you’re too tired to drive back, you’re welcome to stay.” He sank into one end of the couch, and Carisi smiled to himself, thinking: _ball’s in my court, then_. He crossed in front of Barba and sat on the couch, leaving enough space between them to hopefully afford Barba some ease of mind. “I’d sleep here, of course,” Barba added, glancing at Carisi before looking into the dancing flames of the fire. “Since your legs are too long.”

Carisi chuckled. “I haven’t had any complaints,” he said.

“I meant…too long for the sofa…”

“It’s hard to tell with the beard, but are you blushing?” Carisi asked.

Barba cleared his throat. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he answered.

“Yeah, no, it’s probably just the heat,” Carisi agreed. He turned toward Barba, drawing one bent leg onto the sofa between them and propping his glass on his thigh. “So, Rafael,” he said, and Barba’s wary gaze cut to his face. “You planning on hiding out up here forever, or what?”

“I’ll need to go back to work eventually,” Barba answered, trying—and mostly failing—to keep his tone light. “I wasn’t sure, growing up in the city, but being out here I know it’s true—money doesn’t grow on trees.” Carisi smiled indulgently but Barba sighed and looked back at the fire. “I’m not hiding, not really,” he muttered. “I’m…” He considered, and couldn’t seem to find the word he wanted.

“Healing?” Carisi suggested quietly.

“Wouldn’t that be selfish,” Barba said, barely audible. He swirled his wine for a moment before raising the glass to his lips for a sip.

“Doesn’t seem selfish to me,” Carisi answered, regarding the other man’s profile. “There’ve been a few times I wished I could come someplace like this and…regroup, you know? And I haven’t gone through anything like you did.”

“You’ve stared down the barrel of a gun,” Barba said, and his voice was harsh. Carisi knew it was a defense mechanism. “You’ve come a breath away from dying—”

“And you watched your whole life unravel around you,” Carisi interrupted.

Barba swallowed with effort. “Because of my own choices. It wasn’t only my life I ruined. I thought it best to give everyone…a break. From me.”

“I just hope you weren’t planning on shutting us out forever. Your friends.”

“My friends,” Barba murmured, frowning into his glass. “My mother will barely speak to me.”

Carisi sighed and reached out on impulse, settling a hand onto Barba’s shoulder. “Man, I’m sorry. She’ll come around, you know? She loves you, and…you know Catholics are big on forgiveness.”

Barba looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Me?” Carisi dropped his hand back to his own leg. “I don’t think there was anything to forgive. And there’s nothing _Catholic_ about my reasons for wanting to see you.”

Barba pulled in a breath and turned his head toward Carisi. There was uncertainty in his expression, so Carisi offered a lopsided smile and shrugged a shoulder before taking a drink of wine.

“I’m not sure I wouldn’t do it again,” Barba said through barely-moving lips, and the softness of his voice added weight to the admission. He watched Carisi’s face, looking for signs of condemnation, but he saw none. Carisi’s expression was open, kind. Sympathetic. Barba released his pent-up breath slowly. “What does that make me?” he asked.

“The same thing you’ve always been. A good man who does what he thinks is right.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“You don’t give yourself enough,” Carisi countered. “Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t come here to make you talk about anything you’re not ready to talk about. If you want to, I’m here, but if—”

“Why did you come? I thought…you might be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“No, it doesn’t seem so,” Barba agreed.

“I wanted to see you,” Carisi said. There was no point in beating around the bush. He’d driven for hours, and there was no one around but the two of them. “The beard is a new look,” he added with a smile. “Almost didn’t recognize you when you first stepped outside.”

“Like I said, scaring the bears,” Barba muttered. He looked away but returned his gaze to Carisi’s in a moment. “You’ve got a couple days’ scruff, yourself,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah,” Carisi answered, scratching lightly at his jaw. “It’s my weekend look these days.”

“I like it,” Barba said. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you know. It’s better than the mustache.”

Carisi smiled. “I’ll never live down that first impression, will I?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Barba said. “Listen, Carisi, I’m sorry if I seemed…If I said anything that made you think—”

“We talked about this, didn’t we?” Carisi interrupted. “I know why you were tough on me, and you made me better—as a lawyer, and as a cop.”

Barba shook his head. “I meant personally. If I, you know, hurt your feelings.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

Barba blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. “I was scared,” he admitted.

“Scared I’d say yes, or no?” Carisi asked with a smile.

“Both.”

Carisi laughed quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Hmm,” Barba answered, but he seemed to be bracing himself.

“I’ve missed you. And I don’t just mean at work, although Stone is…” He shook his head. “Not the best fit,” he finally said, choosing to be charitable. “He’s got nice abs if you’re into that sort of thing, though.” He laughed when Barba’s eyebrows went up. “I’m not,” he added.

“Did you…I mean, did you and he…” Barba ran his tongue over his lip. “Never mind, it’s none of my—”

“He likes to take his shirt off. I’m not sure we could say anything to stop him, to be honest. I won’t say I didn’t study the view a few times, but it didn’t do much for me. Besides, it wasn’t me he was trying to impress.”

“Liv?” Barba guessed after a moment. At Carisi’s brief nod, he said, “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“No,” Carisi agreed. “I thought about warning him but, you know.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I have sympathy for him, I do, but I’m not sure I can forgive him for what he did to you.”

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah.”

“Besides, what about that Catholic forgiveness?”

“I’ll work on it. For the record, I would’ve said yes. If you’d asked me out.”

“Yeah, I’m…picking up on that,” Barba said, and Carisi laughed.

“I didn’t come all the way up here to proposition you, though.”

“That’s a shame,” Barba said, his lips quirking when Carisi laughed again.

“I just needed to see that you were okay.” Carisi hesitated. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Barba considered the question even though he’d already answered it once. “It’s quiet here. Most of the time it’s nice, but sometimes it gets…lonely,” he admitted. “Not the same kind of loneliness as in the city when you’re surrounded by a million people but no one’s looking at you, but the kind of lonely that can make you feel like you’re the last person in the world. And I’ve worked myself into a near panic attack a few nights, when it’s dark and quiet and I swear I can hear something breathing outside the screen and I’m too afraid to get up and close the window and it occurs to me that I’m in the middle of nowhere, with no vehicle, and no one would hear me scream.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Carisi said quietly.

“And my phone doesn’t ring for days on end, until I start to wonder why I keep it charged and why I keep looking at the screen to make sure I have service.” He paused, and smiled. “But yeah, I think I’m okay, actually,” he said. “I haven’t made any profound discoveries about myself, haven’t decided what the _hell_ I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but I’ve found some peace.”

Carisi nodded. “I’m glad,” he said, and he meant it. “And I meant what I said, I don’t want to impose. If you tell me to leave, I’ll leave, and I promise I won’t be offended.”

“It’s good to see you,” Barba said after a moment. “It’s good to see any familiar face, but…it’s especially good to see _you_.” He paused, working his lower lip between his teeth for a few seconds. “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “I don’t have a whole lot of food but I can…fix us something…”

“I could eat,” Carisi said with a smile. He tipped his head toward Barba and lowered his voice, saying, “I don’t know if you know this about me, Rafael, but I’m a pretty good cook, and making meals out of a few odd ingredients is sort of a specialty of mine. So, if you need help…”

“I was thinking I’d open a couple of cans of beef stew,” Barba said.

Carisi raised his eyebrows. “Rafael Barba, eating stew from a can?” he asked. “Who’d have thought?”

“Maybe a raincheck on the gourmet dinner?”

“Sure. Next time,” Carisi said. He watched Barba get to his feet and head toward the kitchen with his glass. After a few seconds, Carisi stood and followed him, sipping his own wine. He once again stopped at the line between wood and linoleum, watching as Barba got a pan from a lower cupboard and two small cans of stew from another. “You mind if I bring my bag inside?”

“Bag?” Barba asked, glancing back at him.

“Change of clothes, toothbrush, you know,” Carisi said, stepping into the small kitchen.

“Right. Of course, bring in whatever you’d like. And like I said, there’s a store if you need anything I don’t—” Barba broke off at the light touch of Carisi’s fingers against his shoulder, and drew an unsteady breath as the detective reached past him to set his glass on the counter.

“Raf?”

“Hmm.” Barba felt Carisi’s fingers at the side of his neck, tugging down the top of his turtleneck, and then the detective’s soft breath was fanning Barba’s ear. Barba couldn’t help the shiver that passed through him, and he held onto the edge of the counter, closing his eyes. Carisi’s lips caressed the side of his neck for a moment.

“Is it okay if I do this?” the detective murmured against Barba’s skin.

“Mmhm,” Barba answered, his fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. Carisi’s hands were on his shoulders, and he trailed kisses below Barba’s ear, sucking lightly at his skin. Barba barely stopped the sound that had formed in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” Carisi asked against his neck. “I can stop if you want.”

“Uhn-uh,” Barba answered, and he felt Carisi’s lips curve. Barba gathered his courage and turned. He met the other man’s eyes. Carisi dipped his head and brushed his lips against Barba’s. Barba opened his mouth without hesitation, but Carisi drew back to look at him.

“Okay if I do this?” the detective asked softly, the dimples in his cheeks flashing.

Barba settled his hands onto Carisi’s hips and pulled him forward so their bodies were flush. He could feel the proof of Carisi’s desire, and it eased his embarrassment about his own body’s quick reaction. He pushed his lips more firmly against Carisi’s, hoping to encourage the detective without scaring him away, and Carisi responded better than Barba could’ve hoped.

The younger man ran his tongue over Barba’s lower lip before slipping it into his mouth, and he slid his hands up to bracket the lawyer’s bearded jaw as he used his body to press Barba back against the counter. Barba’s hands tightened on the other man’s waist. Carisi was a brilliant kisser: slow, thorough, attentive, and Barba struggled to process how quickly his plans for the evening had changed.

He made a small sound and pulled his mouth from Carisi’s, trying to focus through the cloud of desire. Carisi met his stare—the detective’s blue gaze was bright with desire, heavy-lidded, but searched Barba’s eyes with sharp intelligence as he looked for signs of hesitance.

Barba floundered for something to say, something reassuring but undemanding, something that didn’t reveal quite how much his body craved contact. His every cell seemed to be straining toward Carisi, searching for his touch, and Barba was alarmed by how much he needed to feel Carisi’s skin against his.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he heard himself breathe, and Carisi’s smile and soft expression were almost his undoing. Barba dropped his gaze to the top button of Carisi’s shirt, swallowing as he struggled to say more. Putting his feelings into words had never been his strong-suit, but he didn’t want to shy from his feeling of vulnerability—not now, not while Carisi had him surrounded and was reading every nuance of his expression. “Leaving like I did, I…know I hurt a lot of people, but my biggest regret has been the things I never said to you.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Carisi answered, running a gentle thumb over Barba’s cheek above the edge of his beard.

Barba smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “If I say it now, it’ll seem like I’m trying to get you into bed.”

With a soft laugh, Carisi said, “In case I wasn’t being obvious enough, you don’t really have to try.” He bent his head and kissed Barba again before saying, “All the times I thought about doing this, I never imagined the beard.”

“You want me to go shave?” Barba offered.

“Nah,” Carisi said, dipping his head and nuzzling his face under Barba’s chin. His lips found Barba’s bare throat, and Barba tipped his head back with a gasp, his fingers digging into Carisi’s sides. “Raf?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Carisi murmured. He sucked at Barba’s throat. “Not for stew.” He ran his tongue over the mark he’d made. “You wanna show me the bedroom?”

“We—ah, God,” Barba breathed. “We don’t have to—to do anything—Christ,” he said, raising a hand. He slipped his fingers into Carisi’s hair and tugged his head up to look at his face. Barba’s whole body was flushed hot with desire, but there were things he needed to say before Carisi robbed him of all rational thought. “We don’t have to do anything,” he repeated. “I don’t have anything, anyway. I…I just want…” He swallowed, releasing his hold on the other man’s hair. _I just want to fall asleep in your arms_. He couldn’t say it, not with Carisi staring at him. He let his arms drop to his sides.

“Do you want me to stop?” Carisi asked, and there was a small frown marring his forehead.

Barba shook his head. “I owe you so much more—”

“Hey,” Carisi cut in gently, searching Barba’s eyes. “The whole ride up here I just kept worrying you’d slam the door in my face, but all that went away as soon as I saw you. All I want to do is touch you, Raf, to know you’re really here. I was afraid I’d never see you again. All I want to do is touch you,” he repeated, and his eyes were begging Barba to understand. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, we could just…Just let me fall asleep with my arms around you,” he finally said.

“Sonny.” Barba reached up and took one of Carisi’s hands, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say, so he laced his fingers between Carisi’s and shifted away from the counter, leading the other man toward the bedroom. Carisi followed without a hint of hesitation, and as soon as they were beside the bed, Barba turned and kissed him again.

Barba had never felt so nervous with another person, so unsure of himself. He’d spent too much time counting all the ways he didn’t deserve someone as good and kind and pure as Sonny Carisi, and he couldn’t help but worry that he would, without trying, hurt the detective again.

But as selfish as it might be, he needed to feel another person’s fingers on his skin. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in the world, that someone could see him and touch him, that someone cared.

No, not someone. Carisi. It was his touch that Barba craved above all else.

“Sonny,” he repeated. _Say it. Tell him. He deserves to know_. “I need you,” Barba whispered. It was the truth, but not the whole truth.

“I’m here, Raf,” Carisi answered. He unbuttoned Barba’s flannel shirt and slipped it back off his shoulders, watching the other man’s face. Barba swallowed, pulling his arms free. “You’re here,” Carisi added, slowly lifting the turtleneck, his knuckles grazing Barba’s bare skin. Barba lifted his arms and let Carisi pull the shirt over his head, tugging the tight neck free. Carisi tossed the shirt aside and smiled at Barba’s disheveled hair. “We’re here together, you and me.” He ducked his head and kissed Barba’s bare shoulder, and his collarbone, and into the hollow of his neck. His fingers found Barba’s fly and unsnapped it, slowly lowering the zipper. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Barba breathed, but he fumbled at Carisi’s waist, trying to pull his shirt from his jeans, needing to feel skin beneath his fingertips.

Carisi raised his head and took half a step backward, quickly drawing his own shirt up and over his head. He discarded it and unfastened his jeans, shoving them and his boxers past his hips. He toed off his shoes, stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside, and stood for a moment in nothing but his socks.

Barba glanced down and swallowed, hard, but his gaze quickly returned to Carisi’s. “I’m too old to feel like a sixteen-year-old virgin right now,” he muttered, and Carisi laughed softly.

“You lose your virginity at seventeen?” Carisi asked with a crooked smile, running his hands lightly over Barba’s chest.

“No. Twenty-two,” Barba said with a self-deprecating laugh. “Though not for lack of trying at seventeen.”

“I can’t imagine anyone turning you down,” Carisi said. His fingers were once more at the open flaps of Barba’s jeans, but he hesitated, giving Barba plenty of time to stop him.

“I hadn’t grown into my charm, yet,” Barba said, and Carisi grinned at him. “And not everyone appreciates being insulted,” he added, cocking an eyebrow, and Carisi laughed.

“Lay one on me.”

“If Michelangelo had seen you, he would’ve sculpted you in marble.”

Carisi blinked. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” he asked after a moment.

Barba smiled. “Sorry, I’ve been alone awhile, I guess I’m rusty.”

“Hmm, we can work on it,” Carisi said, ducking his head to press a kiss to Barba’s shoulder. He pushed Barba’s jeans and underwear down his hips, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach as he slowly sank into a crouch. Barba’s stomach quivered against his lips, and Carisi felt the other man’s fingers slip into his hair. “You should be sculpted in marble,” Carisi murmured, and Barba sucked in a breath.

Carisi smiled. Barba wasn’t used to getting compliments, at least not without deflecting them. Carisi was going to change that. He would make sure Barba knew exactly how beautiful he was.

Carisi put a hand on Barba’s hip to steady him and helped him step out of his jeans. “You’ve got nice legs,” Carisi remarked, running a finger over the curve of Barba’s calf. “You been running up here?”

“Little bit,” Barba muttered, his fingers tightening in Carisi’s hair. “Lot of fresh air in the woods. Makes more difference than you’d think.”

“And that bike riding.”

“That, too.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Stick around a few days.”

Carisi looked up and found his gaze. “Yeah, alright,” he answered with a smile. “I took some vacation time.”

“What’d you tell Liv?”

“I was coming up here to seduce you,” Carisi answered without hesitation, and Barba uttered a surprised laugh. “Nah, not really, though I think she woulda been on board. I just told her I needed some time off, you know?”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Barba said, barely audible.

Carisi cupped his palms around the backs of Barba’s thighs. “I don’t know if I can leave now that I know what I’ve been missing,” he said with a grin.

“Stop it,” Barba returned, but his cheeks and chest were flushed and there was no bite in his voice.

Carisi straightened, and Barba let go of his hair, letting his hand settle onto the detective’s shoulder instead. “Is me complimenting you a deal-breaker?” Carisi asked. Barba stared at him, swallowed, and gave his head a small shake. Carisi put his palms to Barba’s jaw, holding his gaze. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Carisi said. Barba’s gaze flicked away and then found its way back to Carisi’s. Carisi brushed a thumb lightly over the other man’s lips. “I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you. I never saw eyes as beautiful as yours and I wanted them on me all the time, even if it was because I was saying something stupid. I wanted to run my fingers through your hair and mess it up—like it is now. I won’t tell you everything I’ve wanted to do,” he murmured, tipping his head a bit. “Can I show you, instead?”

Barba’s lips were parted, his eyes hooded. He nodded, his beard tickling Carisi’s palms, and Carisi gave him a quick kiss before turning him toward the bed.

Barba let Carisi steer him backward to the edge of the bed, let him push him gently down onto the quilt. He pushed himself up to the pillows at Carisi’s urging, and let Carisi cover his body with his own, kissing and sucking at his shoulder, his throat, his chest, his stomach. Barba fisted his hands at his hips as he watched Carisi close his mouth around his erection.

Barba watched through his lashes, breathing in shallow puffs, as Carisi stroked himself in time with the movement of his mouth around Barba’s manhood. When he couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer, Barba settled one palm onto Carisi’s shoulder and the other against the back of the detective’s sweat-dampened hair.

Barba didn’t choke back his moans like he normally would, because when the first one slipped past his lips he felt Carisi’s mouth tighten in response, and saw Carisi’s fist quicken on his own cock. Barba gave himself over completely to Carisi, letting the detective work him up until Barba’s back was arching from the bed and his toes were curling and his moans were close to whimpers.

When Barba came, he fisted his hands in Carisi’s hair, gasping his name: “ _Sonny_.”

Carisi’s fist was pumping quickly up and down his own shaft, and he gave himself two more twisting strokes before thrusting his hips forward and pressing his erection against Barba’s leg, covering Barba’s shin with thick strands of shimmering cum.

“ _Raf_ ,” Carisi groaned thickly as he came, and he dropped his forehead onto Barba’s stomach as his body shuddered. Barba stroked Carisi’s sweaty hair with trembling fingers as they both struggled to catch their breath.

When Carisi finally levered himself, Barba was reluctant to let him go, but he dropped his arms to his sides and stared up at the other man as Carisi pushed himself forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” Carisi said, crawling gingerly over Barba and glancing back at his leg with a grimace as he put his feet on the floor. “Don’t move. Washcloths in the bathroom?”

Barba nodded, watching him go. He hadn’t been joking; Carisi _should_ be sculpted in marble. The detective was back in less than a minute with a damp cloth, and he wiped himself clean as he walked across the room. He bent over Barba and swiped the cooled semen from his leg. Then, folding the soiled part of the cloth inward, he used a clean corner to carefully wash the saliva and residual cum from Barba’s softened length.

“Sorry about, y’know, humping your leg a little,” Carisi said with a sheepish smile, and Barba pressed his head back into the pillow, laughing.

“When you said you liked my legs…”

Carisi laughed, too, kneeling on the edge of the bed to lean over and kiss him again. “Let me get rid of this and I’ll be back in a minute. You need anything while I’m up?”

Barba reached down and pulled the wet cloth from Carisi’s hand, throwing it toward the discarded clothes on the floor. “Stay,” he said, wrapping an arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Okay,” Carisi agreed, crawling over Barba and pulling the blankets up over their bodies. He snuggled against Barba’s side, putting his cheek on the other man’s shoulder, and he felt Barba kiss his hair. Carisi threw his arm and leg over Barba’s body and drew a deep breath full of his scent.

“I promise you won’t have to come on my leg next time,” Barba murmured. His arms tightened around Carisi for a moment before loosening. “I’m sorry—”

“I’m not complaining,” Carisi said sleepily, running his fingers up and down Barba’s side. “We can go to the store, be more prepared next time.” When Barba didn’t answer, Carisi lifted his head to look at him. “You alright?” he asked.

Barba searched his face for a moment. “Thank you for coming,” he finally said. Then he grimaced and, at the sight of Carisi’s grin, rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. For coming—for being here.”

Carisi tipped his face up for a kiss before resettling his head against Barba’s body. “Thanks for letting me stay,” he mumbled sleepily, closing his eyes. He drifted off with Barba gently running his fingers through his hair.

 

*       *       *

 

Carisi woke to the sound of a baby crying, and his eyes snapped open in the darkness. He started to push himself up, blinking away the confusion. “Rafael?” he asked, his voice hoarse, when he saw the shine of Barba’s eyes.

“It’s…unsettling, I know,” Barba said quietly. “The first night, I thought I was losing my mind, that it was…” He trailed off, thinking, _the ghost of Drew Householder_.

“What the fuck,” Carisi said, pushing himself up and turning so he was sitting with the blanket pooled in his lap. He looked toward the window. The night air coming through the screen was chilly, and it painted goosebumps over his bare skin.

Or maybe it wasn’t the cold.

“It’s not real,” Barba said, also sitting up and laying a palm against Carisi’s naked back. “I did some research. There are animals that mimic the sound of crying to lure prey.”

“That sounds _human_ ,” Carisi said, suddenly painfully aware that he’d never brought his bag from the car and his service pistol was out in the glove box.

“I know.” Barba shivered and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. They’d let the fire go out, and the whole cabin had grown chilly. He should’ve closed the window, but he hadn’t wanted to leave the comfort of Carisi’s embrace. He glanced over at the alarm clock. It was just after two. The room was full of shadows dancing in the moonlight.

“And it sounds close,” Carisi added.

“It doesn’t usually last long,” Barba said. “I’ll close the window, that’ll help.”

“No, I’ll get it,” Carisi said, putting a hand on the other man’s arm to stop him from leaving the bed. Carisi threw the blankets back from his legs and scooted down to the foot of the bed, walking cautiously toward the window.

“Jesus, you _look_ like a sculpture,” Barba said when Carisi stood in a pool of pale moonlight. Carisi cast him a quick smile, his teeth flashing. Then he stepped closer to the window, peering through the screen. Outside, there was a loud screech, and Barba saw the other man flinch. Barba felt his scalp prickle, and he shivered again. He’d spent more than one night huddled in the middle of his bed, too afraid to approach the window.

“That’s creepy as hell,” Carisi said, leaning closer to the screen. Barba barely fought back his urge to call out, to draw Carisi away from the window and back to the safety of the bed. Barba watched, his heart slamming in his chest, as Carisi pressed up close to the screen, cupping his hands to the sides of his face to look out into the night. “I think I should go out—”

“No,” Barba said, too quickly. He swallowed the lump of irrational fear in his throat. _It’s just an animal_ , he thought, as he’d reminded himself over and over again on those lonely nights he’d sat on the bed with his testicles climbing into his body as a cold sweat of fear broke out across his skin. “It’ll stop soon, please—come back to bed,” he said.

Carisi stepped back from the window and looked at him, his face half-moonlight and half-shadow. “Okay,” he said, his tone placating. He could hear the note of fear in Barba’s voice, and Barba hugged the blankets to himself, embarrassed by his own ridiculousness. Carisi quickly closed the window, muffling the deceptive sounds of crying.

In a moment, Carisi was crawling up the bed and plopping down beside Barba. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said, rubbing a hand over Barba’s bare back. “You’re right, it’s not as loud with the window closed. You need anything? Drink? Handjob?”

Barba didn’t crack a smile. He looked at Carisi and repeated, barely audible, “I thought I was losing my mind.” The admission was painful, but Carisi’s arms went around him, and Barba let out a breath, leaning into his offer of comfort. “The first night was the worst. Now, I usually close the window before I go to sleep so the sounds don’t wake me—not just that, the crying thing, but sometimes there’s breathing and scratching. I know it’s just animals but in the middle of the night, when you’re all alone out here, your brain plays tricks on you.” He managed a small smile. “The guy at the store says it’s the Dog Man.” He laughed quietly when Carisi rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Go ahead and mock me, kid from the South Bronx out here in the woods—”

Carisi slipped his hand into Barba’s hair and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m not mocking, Raf,” he murmured. “All the hair on my body was standing up when that thing, whatever it is, screamed like that. And I don’t like that my damned gun is out in the car. The lieutenant would have my ass if she knew I’d left it out there.”

“Hmm,” Barba said. He released another breath. He felt calmer in Carisi’s warmth. “It’s a nice ass,” he said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. He pulled back so he could see the other man’s face.

“Well, it’s all yours,” Carisi laughed, placing a chaste kiss on Barba’s lips. “But right now, I have to piss like a racehorse.”

“Charming,” Barba answered drily, and Carisi laughed again.

“You wanna come with?”

“I don’t want to stay here alone,” Barba answered, but he was mostly joking, now. Carisi’s presence made all his fears seem less important.

“Then come on, babycakes,” Carisi said, throwing back the covers with a grin on his face. “We’ll hit the toilet, rebuild the fire, and go back to sleep. Let the Dog Man eat all the babies he wants, it’s none of our business.”

Barba laughed, thinking, _Jesus, do I love you_.

 

*       *       *

 

When Barba opened his eyes in the morning, he automatically reached for Carisi, but the other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to his touch. Barba felt a moment of panic as his eyes scanned the room; the early morning sunlight was streaming through the window, and the cabin was warm. He could hear the crackle of the fire from the other room. He could smell coffee.

And then, as he started to relax, he could hear the sound of an ax breaking open a chunk of wood. Barba pushed the blankets back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up with a yawn. He scratched at his chest and looked down at himself. During their second go-around, Carisi had left hickeys on his chest, his stomach, his thighs. Barba smiled at the memory and looked around. The washcloth and dirty clothes were gone from the floor.

Barba got up and stretched before crossing to the dresser. He drew on clean underwear and jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt before heading toward the bathroom. He pulled the shirt over his head and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers over the gray streaks in his beard, wondering if he should shave. Carisi hadn’t shown any aversion to the beard, but Barba wanted to feel the other man’s lips under his chin and slipping along his jaw.

Barba peed while he debated.

He decided to wait, ask for Carisi’s preference. That was really the only factor that mattered to Barba. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee before walking barefoot onto the porch, steaming mug in his hands. He stopped short at the sight of Carisi—dressed in faded jeans and a white tank top, darkened with sweat in spite of the early morning chill—swinging the ax down and through a birch round, chopping it cleanly in half.

Carisi stopped, resting the head of the ax on the splitting log, and swiped a forearm over his sweaty forehead. He hadn’t shaved, either, adding to the lumberjack look. He sensed Barba’s presence and looked over, a smile instantly lighting his face. Barba couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning,” Carisi said.

“Morning,” Barba returned. He held up his mug. “You want something?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just stockpiling a bit of wood—you were pretty low.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to do that,” Barba said, surveying the progress that Carisi had made. “Would’ve taken me a lot longer, though. Sorry I overslept, thanks for making coffee. And the fire.”

“Sure. I was gonna make eggs since we never ate last night, but figured I’d wait ‘til you got up. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Barba shook his head and they regarded each other in silence for a few seconds.

“I’ll take a break in a few,” Carisi said. “We can eat and—Oh, come look at this, though,” he said, setting the ax on the grass so it was leaning against the chopping block. “I went looking—Oh,” he said again, realizing Barba was barefoot. “Well, it can wait.”

“I’ll grab my shoes, just a sec,” Barba said, sipping his coffee as he went into the house. He set his mug on the table, slipped on his sneakers without tying the laces, and walked back outside. Carisi was at the bottom of the porch steps and held out an arm, settling his hand against Barba’s back as soon as he was within reach, and Barba cast him an uncharacteristically shy smile and a sideways look before turning his face toward Carisi.

Carisi immediately obliged with a kiss, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. “I’ve been waiting all morning to do that,” he said. “Had to get out of there and work off tension, watching you sleep was giving me all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.”

“Yeah?” Barba asked, tipping his lips into a smirk.

Unable to resist, Carisi kissed him again. “Yeah. But come on, you gotta see something.”

“I’ll go on the record, here,” Barba said as they walked together toward the corner of the cabin, “that if I’m ever sleeping, you have my permission to take whatever liberties you’d like.”

Carisi laughed, rubbing his hand up and down the back of Barba’s sweatshirt. “Maybe I can think of some creative ways to wake you up,” he said with a quick wink that made Barba chuckle. They turned the corner, walking toward the bedroom window, and Carisi pointed at the ground. “Okay, so I was looking around for signs of that animal, and I found these tracks under the window. You said you haven’t seen any bears, right?”

Barba frowned down at the indentations in the dirt, his stomach slithering uneasily. “Right,” he agreed. “Those aren’t…Do those look like bear tracks?” he asked uncertainly.

“I mean…I don’t know? But I wouldn’t think so,” Carisi said. His tone was doubtful, his forehead creased. “But look.” He put his foot next to one of the prints; the animal track was wider than his shoe, and longer by a couple of inches.

“If you’re trying to impress me with your foot size, you forget I’ve seen you naked,” Barba said in an attempt at a joke, but he looked uneasily at the window.

“Just saying they seem too big to be anything else, yeah?” Carisi said.

“Anything with feet that big has no business crying like a baby,” Barba answered, and Carisi laughed—a real laugh that eased some of Barba’s tension and lightened the mood. Whatever had left those tracks, no matter how big it might be, was just a wild animal. Barba held no illusions about himself being anything other than a city kid, but he didn’t want to overreact. The idea that a bear, or some other big creature, might’ve been looking in the bedroom window was unsettling, but it wasn’t the same as a person creeping around and spying.

And, whatever it was only seemed to lurk around at night. Barba hadn’t seen or heard it during the day, which meant it was likely more afraid of him than he should be of it.

“The tracks circle around a bit here by the window. Then they go off toward the woods but I lost ‘em pretty quick.”

“You didn’t try to follow them,” Barba said, and he heard his voice go up with a note of alarm that he couldn’t quite control.

“Just to get a general direction,” Carisi said, leaning closer in a subconscious attempt to offer comfort. “Anyway, I had my gun. But a tracker I am not,” he added with a laugh.

“Weren’t you a Boy Scout?” Barba teased with a gentle elbow to the other man’s side.

“Yeah,” Carisi answered. He smiled crookedly. “Our Troop Leader had us smell a lot of bark.”

Barba laughed in surprise. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

“Nope,” Carisi said, ducking his head and nuzzling the side of Barba’s neck. “Never found a tree that smelled as good as you, though.”

“Hmm. I’m not even wearing cologne.”

“Don’t need it,” Carisi murmured into Barba’s beard.

“I didn’t even shower.”

“Huh. Maybe I’m smelling myself on you, then,” Carisi said.

Barba’s answering laugh was bubbly. “If you were to smell my leg…” he answered, and Carisi lifted his head to laugh, his eyes sparkling in the morning sunlight. _I fucking love him_ , Barba thought, momentarily unable to breathe. _And in spite of everything I’ve done, he might actually be giving me a chance_. He swallowed, fighting his urge to look away. He saw Carisi’s expression soften at whatever he was reading in Barba’s stare, and the detective leaned in for another kiss, this time letting his lips linger.

“Let’s go have breakfast,” Carisi murmured, “and maybe we can walk to that store.”

“I wouldn’t be too hopeful about their inventory.”

“I can drive to another store—or twenty—if necessary,” Carisi said with a smile, slipping his hand into Barba’s back pocket as they turned and made their way slowly toward the porch. He bent his head and brushed his lips over Barba’s ear. “Or not, if you don’t want. I’m perfectly happy with last night’s arrangement.”

“We can do better than that,” Barba smiled. He paused. “If I were a younger man, I’d be more inclined to make do—but a little spit doesn’t go as far as it used to.”

Carisi chuckled, giving Barba’s ass a brief squeeze through the inside of his pocket. “I always knew you were a poet, Barba,” he said.

 

*       *       *

 

“We likely to run into any of the guys from Deliverance?” Carisi asked as they strolled down the narrow path through the woods. A soft breeze was whispering through the trees around them, and the air had a bite of cold in it. Barba had put a long-sleeved t-shirt under his sweatshirt—forgoing a turtleneck only because he didn’t want to impede Carisi’s lips if they decided to go exploring—and Carisi was wearing a flannel shirt—black and blue plaid—over a white t-shirt. They were walking closely enough together to fight off most of the day’s chill.

“I haven’t seen any,” Barba answered. He knew what Carisi was asking: should they expect dirty looks, or outright insults, or possibly worse, when they got to the small store. “I haven’t run into anyone, really. The old man who runs the store is nice enough. Little…eccentric, maybe.”

“Should we tell him we saw the Dog Man tracks?” Carisi joked.

“Not unless you want to be stuck in the store all day listening to him,” Barba answered, shooting Carisi a look.

Carisi was wearing his gun, hidden beneath the edge of his flannel shirt. Barba wasn’t worried about anyone—human or otherwise—with the detective by his side, but it wasn’t the gun that made him feel safe.

They were still a few minutes from the store, and the silence that fell between them was comfortable. Barba had something he wanted—needed—to ask, though, and he turned the words around in his head as he worked up his nerve. Finally, he glanced sideways at Carisi and said, “I want to ask you something, and…I want you to answer honestly.”

“Okay,” Carisi said, looking at him as they walked.

“No matter what the answer, I just…” Barba chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, looking off into the woods. Carisi waited, his arm loose and comforting around Barba’s back. “Do you think it was wrong, what I did?” Barba asked.

Carisi didn’t pull away, but he was silent for long moments as he considered the question. “That’s hard to answer,” he finally said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, you know? Asking myself what I might’ve done, trying to see things from all the different angles. Asking if I’d be less forgiving if it were someone other than you, someone I didn’t…care about.”

Barba turned his head to look at the other man. “I know it must’ve put you in a hard place, being my friend, being Catholic, my own mother is still struggling to reconcile…” He sighed and gave his head a little shake. “Playing God, she said.”

Carisi let the silence stretch for nearly a minute as they walked, but his arm stayed around Barba’s waist. Finally, he said, “The machine was playing God, Raf. The doctors were playing God. He wasn’t living any kind of life, but you…you put that life back in God’s hands, you know? At least, that’s how I look at it. And maybe I’m not objective, ‘cause I know you, ‘cause I love you and know the kind of person you are, maybe my justification wouldn’t hold up in church or court, but that’s what I see. You shouldn’t’ve made the call, but…you shouldn’t’ve _had_ to make the call, you were put in a position to bear a burden that wasn’t yours and what you did was a mercy—not for baby Drew but for his mother. She couldn’t do it. I get that. And you, well…protecting people is part of who you are.

“So, do I think it was wrong? Yes and no. But do I think you did it out of some sense of ego or desire to play God? Of course not. Do I think it should define the rest of your life? No. Does it change the way I look at you? No.”

Barba blinked the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat, looking down at the path reaching out from their feet. He tried to think of something to say, but his brain kept circling around the words _‘cause I know you, ‘cause I love you_.

As though reading his mind, Carisi said quietly, “You can ignore that bit in the middle that’s absolutely true but that I didn’t mean to blurt out like that. Or you can pretend I meant, you know, as a friend. I promise you I’m not asking for anything, or don’t expect—”

“I, uh…I—”

Both of their heads turned toward a loud rustling sound, and their steps faltered as their gazes scanned the forest. Barba felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, and he felt Carisi’s arm tighten around him. He was distantly aware of the detective’s other hand flipping up the edge of his shirt to find the butt of his gun.

“Didn’t sound like a rabbit,” Carisi murmured, still searching the woods for movement. The branches were swaying in the breeze, the underbrush rippling. Barba looked over his shoulder, down the path that led back to the cabin. He’d often felt a prickly sense of disquiet while traveling the path on his own, which was why he usually rode the bike or jogged; he didn’t like to linger.

“Could be a deer we spooked,” Barba suggested. “I’ve seen quite a few of them around.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Carisi agreed. “I didn’t see anything, did you?”

Barba shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. “The path opens up right ahead here, around the curve,” he said. “The store’s there and the highway behind it.” They listened for a moment, but they could hear nothing: no traffic, no voices, not a single bird call. Even the wind had fallen silent.

Carisi released the breath he’d been holding. “Alright,” he said as they resumed their walk. “Hey, they got Doritos at this store of yours? ‘Cause I could really go for some Doritos.”

“Sure. I’m almost out of lunch meat but we could get stuff for sandwiches, get you some beer—”

“Do you have to say it with such scorn?” Carisi joked.

“—and have a picnic down by the lake. I’ve only been over there a few times but it’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” Carisi answered with an impish smile, bumping his hip against Barba’s.

Barba rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the smile from his lips or the blush from his cheeks. “You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

“Yeah, prolly,” Carisi agreed with a good-natured laugh, “but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

The breeze had picked up again, and the birds had resumed their chatter. A butterfly fluttered across the path in front of the two men, and after a few moments they heard the sound of a semi lumbering past on the unseen stretch of highway nearby.

“I do, too,” Barba said, his voice barely audible over the soft crunch of their sneakers in the dirt. He glanced at Carisi and swallowed. “What you said? I do. I have. I didn’t expect…this, not here or now or…maybe ever, because I was too afraid to hope for it, but…but I do feel the same, Sonny. It’s not easy for me to…” He trailed off with a soft sigh. He knew Carisi deserved more.

“Plenty of time, Raf,” the detective said, turning his head to kiss Barba’s shoulder. “I was afraid to hope, too, you know. But here we are together, and that’s all I care about right now.”

Barba stopped and turned toward him, reaching up to pull Carisi’s head down for a kiss. He drew a breath through his nose and let their foreheads rest together for long moments before pulling back. “ _You’re_ beautiful,” he said, managing something close to a smirk. “But if you taste like beer and Doritos when we start making out, I might send you packing.”

Carisi laughed. “Bullshit,” he said. “You can’t bluff me, I know your tricks.”

Barba issued a long-suffering sigh in return, his face splitting into a grin when Carisi laughed again. “Yeah, alright. I guess I’m willing to suffer through.”

“I’ll buy some gum,” Carisi offered.

“I’ll get you some Junior Mints,” Barba shot back, catching Carisi in mid-laugh for a quick kiss.

As they approached the last curve of the path, Barba pulled his arm from Carisi’s back, putting a little distance between their bodies, and Carisi let him go without comment. If it was something they needed to discuss, they could talk about it in private, but Barba being uncomfortable with public displays of affection was not a deal-breaker for Carisi.

“Cute place,” the detective said, eyeing the small, dingy-looking convenience store as they approached the building. There was an ice chest buzzing loudly on the small porch; the place seemed otherwise dead, deserted. There were no cars in the tiny dirt parking lot, but Carisi could see the glint of light off a corner of windshield behind the store—presumably the vehicle of whomever was working inside.

“It’s better than nothing,” Barba said.

“I don’t know how you do it, being up here without a car. I think I’d lose my mind. What’s the nearest Uber, like two hours away?”

Barba smiled. “I don’t know. But the seclusion was part of the draw,” he added. “On the bike I can be here in a couple of minutes, and I’ve got pretty good cell reception, luckily. Could be worse.”

“Yeah,” Carisi agreed. “You’re just braver than me, I guess. But…if you’re gonna stay up here year round, you’re gonna have to get a car or something…”

“I can’t stay here forever,” Barba answered quietly. “I need an income.”

When they walked into the store, an old man behind the counter looked up from the worn paperback of _Lost Horizon_ that he was reading. “Well, well, Mr. Barba!” he exclaimed, his wrinkled face splitting into a wide smile. “And you brought a friend! Howdy-doo.”

“Mr. Hawley, Sonny Carisi,” Barba said, with a brief flick of his wrist between the two men. Carisi crossed to the counter and held out a hand, which Hawley shook with vigor.

“Nice to meet you,” Carisi said.

“Glad to meet you, glad to meet you,” Hawley agreed. “Glad Mr. Barba has a friend, y’know in all the weeks he’s been comin’ in you’re the first person he’s ever brung with him.”

Carisi was still smiling, but he sensed Barba shifting around beside him, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s had nothing but good things to say about this place,” Carisi said, glancing around the store. “Convenient, right here. You get a lot of business?”

Hawley shrugged a shoulder. “People passin’ by mostly keep passin’ by if y’know what I mean, there’s bigger and flashier places up the road. But the locals like Mr. Barba keep me open. Can I help you find anything?”

“I’m gonna look around a bit, but I’ll let you know,” Carisi said, making full use of his disarming dimples. “Thank you.” When he turned to Barba, he started to reach a hand toward his back automatically. Barba didn’t pull away, but Carisi stopped himself at the last moment, turning instead to grab a red shopping basket from the top of the stack near the counter. “Any ideas what you want for supper?” Carisi asked. Barba was studying him, and the concern in his green eyes was unmistakable, so Carisi smiled to reassure him that everything between them was fine. “I know you’ve still got that beef stew,” he added with a small laugh, “but maybe you can save that for a rainy day.”

“We can make whatever you want,” Barba said, reaching over to grab the biggest bag of Doritos off the end rack. He slipped it into the basket by Carisi’s leg, and they walked into the aisle with Barba slightly ahead of the other man. “I haven’t cooked many actual meals, seemed sort of pointless…” He grabbed a pack of gum, a couple of candy bars, and a box of Junior Mints and dropped them into the basket with a quick look at Carisi’s face.

Carisi grinned at the twinkle in Barba’s eyes.

“What did I say I needed?” Barba asked.

“Lunch meat,” Carisi answered.

“Oh, right,” Barba said, continuing down the aisle toward the refrigerated cases in the back of the store.

“You’re low on eggs now, too,” Carisi told him. “Seemed good on coffee.”

“I have hamburger in the freezer,” Barba said. “We could make, I don’t know…spaghetti or something.”

“I’m game,” Carisi agreed. “I saw you had some steaks in there, too.”

“Oh—yeah, I forgot about those. They’ve been in there as long as I’ve been here, I haven’t felt like cooking them…”

“I can get some stuff to go along for tomorrow night?” Carisi suggested.

Barba looked back at him. “Sounds good,” he said quietly, a soft smile turning up his lips. He reached toward the handle of the glass door. “Turkey or ham?”

“Either.”

“What’s your preference?”

“I guess turkey,” Carisi said, his own smile widening when Barba dropped three packages of sliced turkey into the basket and reached for the cheese. “Cheddar,” Carisi said, and Barba’s hand shifted from the Swiss to the cheddar without missing a beat.

“I have mayonnaise and mustard, you use anything else?”

“Nah, sounds good.” Carisi sidled over to the next case and grabbed a six-pack of Corona bottles, ignoring the look of contempt that Barba aimed at the beer as Carisi settled it into the basket.

They wandered the store in silence for a minute, each occasionally slipping an item or two into the basket. When they’d made their way, finally, to the small personal hygiene section, Carisi glanced toward Mr. Hawley. The old man had returned his attention to his book.

Carisi tipped his head a little closer to Barba’s and spoke in a murmur: “If you’d rather go somewhere else, we can.”

Barba shook his head, shooting him a lopsided smile, and grabbed a bottle of lube from the top shelf. After a couple of seconds, he grabbed a second bottle, his smile stretching into a grin as he and Carisi looked at each other. “You want condoms?” Barba asked, his own voice little more than a whisper.

Carisi lifted his eyebrows. “Do _I_?” he asked.

“I mean, I’d prefer to feel you come inside me,” Barba said in a low voice, his eyes sparkling in amusement at the surprised puff of breath that left Carisi’s parted lips, “but it’s really up to you.”

“I, uh…” Carisi licked his suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, no, I’m good with that. Or, um. Either way.”

Barba chuckled quietly. “Maybe, just in case you change your mind,” he said, dropping a box of condoms into the basket.

“Best to be prepared,” Carisi managed in agreement. His clothes were feeling decidedly tight and a little too warm, and he scratched lightly at his stubbly throat. “Um. Anything else we need?”

“Like?”

“Like…crackers or something.”

Barba’s surprised laugh was loud, and from the corner of his eye Carisi saw Hawley glance up from his book. “Crackers?”

“I mean, anything else as far as food, or…or whatever. Matches for the fire?”

“I think I’m good on everything else,” Barba said. “Do you have any idea how red your face is right now?”

“Yes I do,” Carisi answered with a sheepish smile that made Barba laugh again.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Barba said, nudging Carisi’s arm. Then, on impulse, he reached over and grabbed a third container of lubrication—the last one on the shelf—and dropped it into the basket. He gave Carisi’s ass a playful swat, grinning.

“Bad luck for the next customer,” Carisi remarked, walking slowly and hoping some of the color would fade from his cheeks before they reached the counter. He was grateful for the couple days’ worth of scruff that was hiding most of his blush.

“This is the wilderness, babe, it’s every man for himself,” Barba intoned, and Carisi almost choked on his laugh.

“All set?” Hawley asked when Carisi put the heavy basket on the counter.

“Yes, sir,” Carisi answered. He looked at Barba. “Shit, we have to carry this back, huh? We should’ve brought your bike with the little basket.”

“I brought you, instead,” Barba shot back.

Hawley was ringing up their purchases and packing them into a paper sack, and Barba and Carisi both watched him ring up the condoms and then one, two, three bottles of lube. Hawley didn’t say anything until he’d scanned the beer and canned potatoes.

“You boys gonna be havin some fun tonight, huh.”

Barba snorted softly and looked sideways at Carisi. The detective opened and closed his mouth, unable to find an answer. Barba patted him on the shoulder and smiled at the old storekeeper. “Can you blame me?” he asked.

Hawley glanced Carisi over. “No, I’d say he’s good for more than carrying groceries,” he said, and Carisi made a helpless little sound in his throat, giving Barba a dirty look when Barba smirked at him.

“I’ve got it,” Barba said when Carisi started to pull out his wallet.

“You’re unemployed,” Carisi objected, “and the expensive stuff’s mine.” When he saw the stubborn set of Barba’s jaw, he said, “We can at least split it…”

“We can talk about it later,” Barba said, setting his card on the counter.

“Oh, okay—just a sec,” Carisi said, turning and darting back into the candy section. He returned, quick as a bunny, with a Sugar Daddy and clunked it onto the counter with a smug smile on his face.

Barba narrowed his eyes and lowered his chin, spearing Carisi with a _look_ , and said, “What would you’ve done if he didn’t have any, smartass?”

Carisi flashed his dimples. “I saw it on our first pass through and was hoping you’d offer to pay.”

“Guess that makes him the Junior Mint, huh,” Hawley said mildly. Barba and Carisi both burst out laughing, and the storekeeper grinned as he bagged the last of the groceries. He picked up Barba’s card and swiped it. While the payment was processing, Hawley looked at Carisi and asked, “He tell you about the Dog Man?”

“Dog Man?” Carisi repeated, his brow furrowed with just the right amount of polite confusion. “No—I only got up here last night, though. What’s that?”

“You hear any weird noises last night?”

Carisi shook his head. “Naw, I don’t think so. I’m a pretty sound sleeper, though. Something we should worry about?”

“Mr. Barba thinks it’s hogwash, he’s too polite to say so but I can see it in his eyes, but I got pictures and all. And I seen it with my own eyes anyhow. But it ain’t killed anyone in years, not since…” He pitched his voice lower, glancing around as though someone might be eavesdropping. Carisi didn’t bother looking; he knew that he and Barba were the only customers in the store. “The Anderson baby. Real tragedy, that. Just shy of a year old, he was, parents left him in his little seat thinger for a few minutes. Came back and he was gone, those straps chewed clean through. This was down at the lake, you know. Three, four years ago now. They don’t live here no more, not since then. And there ain’t been no more deaths, least not what we know about, but some folk say they hear that baby cryin in the woods at night.

“My sister-in-law, she swears by it’s a ghost. _The ghost of baby Drew_ , she’ll say even if you don’t ask.”

Carisi heard Barba’s sharp intake of breath and didn’t dare look over at him. “Baby Drew?” the detective asked carefully.

“Drew Anderson,” Hawley said, giving him a funny look. “Andrew Anderson, like his father, only he went by Andy. Still does, imagine, wherever he is these days. But the baby, they called Drew. Anyway they never found the body but we know what happened. Some wanted to drag the lake but Drew didn’t chew his own self outta that seat, did he? That baby didn’t drown, and he ain’t no ghost. Ain’t no such thing as ghosts.”

 _No ghosts, only Dog Men_ , Carisi thought. “So that crying that people say they hear? You don’t believe that, huh?”

“Maybe…coyotes,” Barba said, barely audible. “Or…”

“Believe it?” Hawley asked, his eyes widening as he ignored Barba entirely. “O’course I do, I heard it myself plenty a nights when I’m closing up. But it ain’t Drew, or any other baby, it’s the Dog Man hisself, trying to get someone foolish enough to go lookin’ for the sound.”

“Ah,” Carisi said, nodding. “I’ve heard there’s animals that can do that, mimic sounds to lure prey. Sound like young animals or something caught in a trap, you know. But a human baby? What kind of prey would be drawn to that?”

“The human kind of prey, o’course,” Hawley responded.

“Hmm,” Carisi answered. He paused. “You said you have pictures?”

“Sonny, we should get going,” Barba said, but Hawley was already pulling a shoe box from beneath the counter.

 _Actual…photographs_ , Carisi thought, watching in disbelief as the old man shucked aside the cardboard lid and pulled out a handful of 4x6 pictures. _Where’s Fox Mulder when you need him?_ Carisi bent over the counter as Hawley fanned the photos across the surface. Carisi pointed at one and said, “May I?” When the shopkeeper nodded, the detective picked up the photograph and studied the blurry, dark image. “Looks like Bigfoot,” he remarked.

Hawley gave him a dirty look. “There ain’t no Bigfoot,” he said. “Maybe some of those people who thought they was seein’ Bigfoot was seein’ another of these Dog Men, but I don’t know. I think he’s the only one left. Anyway, you can see the snout clear, here,” he added, sliding another photo across the counter. “And the tail. I never heard of no Bigfoot like that.”

“No, I suppose not,” Carisi allowed, looking at the pictures. “Huh. Only one, you say. No, uh…Dog Woman?”

Hawley narrowed his eyes as he peered at Carisi, trying to determine whether or not the younger man was making fun of him. Carisi kept his expression polite and schooled in innocent curiosity, and Hawley seemed to relax a bit. “Not that I ever seen or heard,” he answered. “Only the one _._ And I ain’t never looked under the hood, you know what I’m sayin’—so I s’pose he could be a she but I just don’t get that feelin’ if you know what I mean.”

“Sure,” Carisi allowed with unrivaled generosity. He slid the photos back across the counter. “Well, we’ll certainly keep our eyes and ears open. Thanks for showin’ me these.”

“O’course,” Hawley said, stuffing the photographs back into the box and plopping the lid on top. “I tried to show Mr. Barba but he wasn’t int’rested.”

“Yeah, Raf’s not big on mystery,” Carisi answered with a bright smile. “But me, I think it’s fascinating.” He picked up the paper bag. “We should head out but it was nice to meet you, Mr. Hawley,” he said, extending his right hand over the counter. Hawley shook it, offering a nod in return.

Carisi grabbed the beer and turned and met Barba’s eyes. He could see the tightness in Barba’s expression, and knew that he was trying not to let on how stressed he was by all the talk about the Dog Man and Drew Anderson. Carisi offered a smile that he hoped was reassuring.

“I’ll take the bag,” Barba said, reaching for the sack.

“Here, you can carry the beer,” Carisi countered, holding it out. Barba sighed but took the Corona with his right hand, and Carisi immediately grabbed his left, lacing their fingers together. Barba didn’t resist; he gave Carisi’s hand a quick squeeze and let their arms rub against each other as they made their way out of the store.

“Thank you, Mr. Hawley,” Barba said as they stepped outside.

“Don’t hurt yourselves,” Hawley answered.

 

*       *       *

 

They’d made good time on the way back to the cabin, and Barba put the groceries away while Carisi made turkey sandwiches for their picnic. Barba had been affectionate since leaving the store, but he’d also been quiet, and Carisi knew he was still upset.

“This is like a year’s supply,” Barba said, setting the bottles of lube on the counter.

“It’s a coincidence, you know,” Carisi said, looking over at him. “The baby’s name. If that story’s even remotely true, the name is a coincidence.”

Barba sighed and scrubbed his palms over his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Sonny, I’m sorry I’m so… _in my head_.”

“Do you still want to go to the lake?” Carisi asked. The story about the baby would likely weigh on their minds. His stomach turned at the very thought of what might’ve happened to the kid, left unattended and at the mercy of any number of wild predators.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m not going to let my—” Barba waved a hand toward his own head. “—ruin our time together. You finish those and I’ll get a blanket.”

“Shoulda bought bug spray.”

“I have bug spray,” Barba said, starting away.

“Hey, Raf.”

“Hmm.”

“You wanna have sex first?” Carisi asked, looking at him with a grin.

Barba smiled and stepped toward him. Carisi turned and leaned back against the counter. “Now?” Barba asked softly, tipping his head as he regarded Carisi. He touched his tongue, deliberately, to his lower lip and watched Carisi’s nostrils flare in response. “No, I want to make sure you’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” Carisi breathed, dragging his gaze up to Barba’s.

Barba stepped closer, pressing Carisi tighter against the counter. He leaned up and kissed the detective, licking his tongue over Carisi’s naturally-pink lips. Carisi moaned quietly, and his hands settled heavily onto Barba’s hips. “Then a couple more hours won’t make a difference,” Barba murmured against the other man’s mouth. He nipped Carisi’s lower lip between his teeth for a moment before drawing away and smirking. “Is that your gun, Detective, or…?”

“Funny, I was about to ask when _you_ started packing.”

Barba laughed and patted Carisi’s chest before stepping away. “Make yourself a hearty sandwich, Junior Mint. You’ll need your strength.”

“Gonna make me work for it, huh?”

“You bet your ass,” Barba answered with a wink.

 

*       *       *

 

“Okay, I don’t know how much you paid for this place—”

“Yes you do.”

“—but it was worth it for this view. Damn.”

“It’s pretty nice,” Barba agreed, looking out over the shimmering lake.

“There aren’t any houses along the water. A few docks but no houses.”

“There’re a few around, in the woods,” Barba said, scanning the forest on the opposite side of the lake. “I haven’t seen any people when I’ve been down here, though. Heard a boat or jet-ski or something a few times when I was up by the house, but haven’t seen them.”

Carisi looked back over his shoulder toward the path to the cabin. He didn’t like the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes, or that the feeling had been plaguing him all day. He was still unnerved by the sounds from the night before, and the huge tracks beneath the bedroom window. He knew he was surely overreacting, but Mr. Hawley’s ridiculous explanation of a _Dog Man_ had Carisi feeling edgy and annoyingly high-strung. He didn’t want Barba to pick up on his nervousness; Barba had enough to worry about.

“It was Andrew Anderson that I bought this place from,” Barba said. He spoke hesitantly, apologetically.

“Yeah,” Carisi said. The paper trail was how he’d found Barba, after all, and he’d recognized the name as soon as Hawley had said it. He’d been trying not to think about it.

“It’s been years since…whatever happened out here,” Barba added.

They were sitting side by side on the blanket, looking out at the lake while the trees whispered behind them. They’d eaten their sandwiches, and Carisi had a half-finished bottle of beer held in one hand. His other hand was planted behind Barba’s ass, on the blanket, and Barba was leaned against that shoulder.

“The world’s full of tragedies,” Carisi said. He watched as Barba sipped scotch from a thermos. “There’s good, too, though.”

“I know,” Barba answered with a smile. “You’re here, after all.”

Carisi leaned toward him and kissed Barba’s temple. “Does it bother you if I say I love you?”

“No,” Barba answered, pressing closer and laying his head on Carisi’s shoulder. “You make a good sandwich, by the way. I’ll add that to your list of skills. But I might fall asleep now.”

“That’s alright, I’ve got permission to take liberties if you do,” Carisi joked. He knew that there was no chance Barba would actually fall asleep. They were both too aware of their surroundings.

“Standing invitation,” Barba answered, and Carisi could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you, too,” he added, letting the words slip out before his brain could stop him.

Carisi turned his face and buried his nose in Barba’s hair, kissing his head and breathing in his scent. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that Rafael Barba was leaning against him. The breeze rustled the leaves, and the lake rippled softly, and the birds—

But, no. The birds had all fallen silent.

Carisi’s eyes opened. “Raf,” he breathed, but Barba had already lifted his head and was looking around. Both men straightened up, and Carisi put his hand against Barba’s back as the detective turned his head and upper body to survey the suddenly-quiet woods around them. He heard a loud rustle and looked quickly over his shoulder to see a large, shadowy shape disappear into the thick underbrush.

Carisi’s heartrate kicked into an uneven tempo, and he took a breath to calm himself. He stared at the foliage, searching for further movement, but there was nothing. _Maybe it was a shadow_ , he thought. _A bird flying over. A…really big fucking bird…_

“Sonny,” Barba whispered. He hadn’t seen anything, but he could feel the electricity in the air as well as Carisi could, and Carisi could feel the other man’s nervousness.

“Let’s get up,” Carisi said quietly, keeping his eyes on the woods. He set his beer on the ground, rolled onto a knee, and pushed to his feet before holding down a hand to help Barba stand.

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know—could’ve been anything. Bear, or just a trick of light…”

“Probably attracted to the scent of food,” Barba said, bending to start packing their stuff back into the bag.

“Attracted to the scent of _you_ ,” Carisi joked, winking. “Can’t blame it.” He unsnapped his holster.

“These woods have eyes,” Barba remarked. “I thought I was being paranoid.” He paused. “I’m not sure if I feel better or worse knowing you’re feeling the same way.”

“I don’t think it’ll give us trouble, whatever it is. Just watching, seeing if we leave any food unattended.”

“Or babies.” Barba grimaced at Carisi’s look and said, “Sorry, bad joke.” He straightened with the bag in one arm and Carisi’s half-finished beer in the other hand. “I’m just, you know. Sorry.”

Carisi bumped his arm against Barba’s and smiled. “Really, it’s fine. No bear’s gonna attack the both of us—not with these beards and everything. Besides, whatever it is can’t be _that_ big, if it can hide in the foliage.”

“Ooh, _foliage_ ,” Barba teased, grinning, “you learn _that_ in Boy Scouts?”

“No, every night before bed I read the dictionary—always looking for new words to toss into conversation to impress you.”

“Ah, I’m flattered—but I hate to tell you this, Sonny. Your ass had my attention long before I noticed your vocabulary.” Carisi made a playful swipe and Barba quick-stepped out of the way, laughing, barely managing to avoid spilling beer on himself. “Watch it, Junior Mint, I don’t want to smell like a brewery even if it _would_ scare away wildlife.”

Carisi stuck his tongue out, and Barba stepped forward to plant a quick kiss on the other man’s glistening lips. “I could’ve saved myself so much trouble if only you’d told me sooner,” Carisi lamented. “All I had to do was wear tighter pants.”

Barba glanced down and cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how you’d manage,” he joked, before promptly giving Carisi’s lips another kiss. “Come on, I’m sure we can find something to do in the house.”

“Hmm,” Carisi answered, scanning the forest as he took his beer from Barba’s hand. He tried to reach for the bag, but Barba shook his head and kept hold of it. Carisi relented because he knew they’d both feel a little better if he had his gun hand free. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Laundry? Vacuuming? I could shave the beard off.”

“Mine or yours?” Carisi laughed, looking at him as they walked into the shadows of the woods, leaving the peaceful lake behind.  

“Mine. I’m still debating about yours,” Barba added drily, eyeing Carisi’s scruff. He hesitated, running his fingers over his own hairy jaw. “So, uh…what do you think, though?”

Barba didn’t miss the fact that Carisi had put himself between Barba and the side of the trail where he’d seen the shadowy shape disappear, or that Carisi’s right hand was resting on the butt of his gun as they walked. Carisi was watchful, but not overly tense, and his calmness was comforting.

“You asking me if I want you with or without the beard?”

“Sort of.”

“Yes.”

Barba laughed. “What kind of answer is that?”

“Okay, you want the truth?”

“Of course.”

Carisi leaned in close while they walked, his lips brushing Barba’s ear. “I fell in love with you without the beard, but I’ve never kissed you without it,” he murmured. “Might be nice to lick my way across your jaw—”

“Gross.”

“—and really sink my teeth into your throat—”

“Are you a vampire?”

“—but I’m not saying I don’t like this look. We can try it either way, we can always grow more facial hair.”

“Yeah, but mine comes in whiter every time.”

Carisi looked past him as the bushes rustled. “I’ve got a bit of gray these days.”

“A bit?” Barba teased as the other man straightened.

“Keep walking, I think there’s something close by,” Carisi said. There was no change in his tone, but Barba felt a nervous squirm in his stomach. He glanced toward the woods, searching for a flash of eyes or glimpse of fur, but he saw nothing but slippery shadows. “You want me to shave my beard?” Carisi asked as they moved steadily along the path.

“No,” Barba answered, and Carisi shot him a quick smile at the lack of hesitation. “I mean, you could shave from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and I wouldn’t care, but I do like the tickle.”

“Oh my God,” Carisi laughed. “If I ever wanna shave my toenails, I hope you’ll stop me.”

“You know what I mean,” Barba chuckled. “But I like this look. It’s good on you.”

“Thanks,” Carisi said, and the smile on his lips was soft.

“I think…” Barba hesitated. Carisi glanced back over his shoulder and then looked at Barba’s face, waiting for him to find the words he wanted to say. “It’s different, you know? It’s like…a different world. You, in jeans and flannel with a beard, messy hair, relaxed—well, when we’re not being stalked by Bigfoot, anyway. I’ve sort of convinced myself that this is a different reality up here, and I settled into it because I needed it, you know? Me, chopping wood and riding a bike to the store and…well, anyway, you showed up and have just immediately fit in.”

“You think it’s an illusion? That I don’t love the real you because we both look a little different than usual?”

“No, not exactly,” Barba said. He surveyed the path ahead and the woods bracketing it for a few moments, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’m not sure the real me deserves the life that this version of me is creating.”

“First of all, this is the real you,” Carisi said, “and you deserve all the good in the world. Secondly, I love you. I loved you before I came up here looking for you and I’ll still love you if I go back to the city alone. If you want to come home with me and sit around my dinky apartment in sweatpants getting fat—”

“How dare you.”

“—all day, I’m good with that. If you wanna go back to work, I’ll support whatever choice you make. Even if it’s not in New York.”

Barba stopped in the middle of the path, and Carisi stopped a moment later to look at him. “Are you…Did you just offer to leave the city?”

“Raf,” Carisi said. He gestured toward the trees with his beer. “I love being a detective, I love SVU, I love the squad, I love Manhattan. I love being close to my family. But if you want to stay up here forever and start looking like ZZ Top then I’ll…ask Mr. Hawley for a job, or learn how to fucking garden or something. Or if you want to stay here alone, I’ll drive up on the weekends to visit. All I’m saying is you don’t have to worry about whatever you think the real world is. The real world is you and me. I mean…” A small frown flitted across his forehead. “If that’s what you want, too. But you obviously don’t have to make any decisions now, I just sort of sprung myself on you—”

“Sonny.” Before he could say anything else, there was a loud _crack_ behind them, followed by the unmistakable sound of scrabbling. Both men turned expecting to see a large animal looming, but there was nothing but the unnatural sway of the bushes and a few rolling pebbles.

“Let’s go,” Carisi said quietly, and they took a few steps backward. Barba glanced nervously over his shoulder toward the cabin, afraid whatever was stalking them was smart enough to distract them so it could circle around. He could recite entire books by rote but had little-to-no knowledge about the hunting habits of bears or other indigenous predators.

Barba and Carisi turned, continuing along the path at a steady walk, tossing frequent looks over their shoulders and back and forth across the path. The sight of the cabin ahead was more than welcome to both of them, and they climbed up the porch steps with a last look back toward the woods.

Barba led the way into the cabin and put the bag on the table with a sigh of relief while Carisi locked the door and peeked out the window for a few moments.

“We should set up a camera,” the detective said. “See if we can get a look at whatever’s out there.” He raised his bottle to his lips and finished his beer, swiping his wrist over his mouth as he surveyed the woods and yard. “At least make sure it’s not something that warrants a call to Fish and—” He turned away from the window, and the words died on his tongue.

Barba was standing in the middle of the room, holding a bottle of lube in his hand.

“But that can wait,” Carisi said. He swallowed, and Barba smiled. “I taste like beer,” Carisi warned.

“I’ll allow it,” Barba returned, and Carisi crossed to him quickly, setting the empty bottle on the table as he passed.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba shifted his hips, trying to find a more comfortable position. His back had begun to ache; he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Carisi slowed to a stop. He didn’t withdraw, but his sweat-beaded forehead was wrinkled in concern. “Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Barba said, digging his fingers into the other man’s hips to urge him to resume the punishingly-slow pace he’d maintained for what felt like hours.

“You need another pillow?” Carisi asked, levering himself up so he could better see Barba’s face.

“No, I—God,” Barba said, shifting again, his fingers slipping against Carisi’s slick skin. “I need you to move—”

“Like this?” Carisi asked, flexing his hips slowly, hitting Barba’s prostate with unmatched care and precision.

“ _Ahh_ , fuck, yes—Sonny—”

Carisi saw the word _please_ forming on Barba’s lips, and saw Barba swallow it back; Rafael Barba was not a man cut out for begging, but Carisi could feel the frantic scrabble of fingertips at his waist, could feel the heavy rise and fall of Barba’s body beneath him, could feel the tremble of his muscles. Carisi reached down and covered Barba’s erection with a hand, gently running his palm up the length and smearing copious amounts of pre-ejaculate into the dark curls of hair that divided Barba’s stomach, and Barba’s body shuddered beneath him.

Carisi leaned back down, resuming the rhythm he’d paused, and found Barba’s lips with his own. Barba’s kiss was desperate, and one of his hands snaked into Carisi’s hair, fisting tight enough to sting Carisi’s scalp.

“I don’t want to finish,” Carisi admitted against Barba’s mouth. He’d reached the limit of his self-control, though. Both of their bodies were slick with sweat, trembling with need. “I want to stay inside you forever.”

“Okay,” Barba agreed, but he tried again to shift beneath Carisi. In spite of his reassurances, Carisi knew that Barba’s body needed relief in more ways than one. Carisi reached between their bodies and ran his hand over Barba’s erection again, and Barba pressed his lips together to keep from crying out. “Sonny,” he gasped after a moment. Their faces were inches apart, and Carisi could see the plea that Barba was too stubborn to voice.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Carisi said, “we’re almost there.” He wrapped his fingers around Barba’s cock.

“You come first,” Barba breathed.

“Raf—”

“You come first,” Barba repeated with more force behind the words.

Carisi groaned; he’d already lost most of his rhythm, and his hips were moving unevenly. His body wanted him to shove Barba’s legs back, lever his hips off the pillow, and fuck him until neither of them could hold back their cries.

“I love you,” Carisi said. He kept his movements as unhurried as possible, but he’d lost most of his self-control, too. He was teetering on the edge, and a few hard thrusts would send him over—send them both over—but he forced himself to move slowly, to savor the ripples of pleasure-anguish that passed through Barba with each brush against his prostate.

“God, you’re going to kill me,” Barba mumbled. He was leaving bruises on Carisi’s waist, the detective could feel it and didn’t care; he made a mental note to make sure Barba knew he didn’t care, because he was likely to see the marks later and feel guilty.

“Almost there, baby,” Carisi breathed raggedly. “Say my name, Raf, will you say my name?”

“Carisi,” Barba said.

Carisi grunted, looking down at him. Barba’s ability to smirk at a time like this was impressive, and Carisi lowered his head to run his tongue over the other man’s lips. Barba gasped against his mouth.

“Junior Mint?” Barba suggested, pulling at Carisi’s hips and moaning low in his throat as Carisi gave Barba’s erection a brief, gentle stroke between their bodies. Carisi licked at Barba’s lips, refusing to enter his mouth. “Detective— _ah, God_ —um, Counsellor—” He felt the stutter in Carisi’s movement, and Barba’s gaze sharpened as he met the detective’s eyes. “ _Hmm_ , you like that one,” Barba said with a grin. “I’ll remember that.”

“Raf.”

“Sonny,” Barba returned, and he watched Carisi’s eyes flutter closed. Barba lifted his head with a small grunt and kissed Carisi’s lips, and with a few thrusts he felt Carisi tremble as he came inside Barba’s body. That was almost enough for Barba, who’d been on the edge himself for excruciatingly-long, wonderfully-torturous minutes, but Carisi already had his hand around Barba’s erection and it took only two strokes before Barba said “ _Sonny_ ” and coated both of their chests with seemingly-endless spurts of cum.

Carisi worked him through his orgasm gently while Barba’s body writhed beneath him, and then the detective collapsed against him for a minute. When he’d regained control of his muscles, Carisi carefully withdrew from Barba’s body, helped pull the pillow from under his hips, and then sank down on his side with his head on Barba’s chest.

“You okay?” Carisi asked after a few moments of silence. His palm was resting on Barba’s stomach; Barba had his arms wrapped loosely around Carisi.

“How could you even suggest such a thing?” Barba asked quietly, and Carisi knew immediately what the other man meant. He knew that Barba had been circling around it in his mind, trying to come to terms with what Carisi had said in the woods. “Even if we were dating—even if I’d admitted my feelings years ago instead of being an asshole—how could you?”

“Guess I’m a romantic,” Carisi said without lifting his head.

“That’s not romantic, it’s stupid,” Barba said. There was a bite of acid in his tone, but Carisi didn’t take offense. He knew it wasn’t _him_ that Barba was insulting, not really. “You’ve worked your _ass_ off to get where you are in your career, you nearly killed yourself going to night school, and to even sug _gest_ giving that all up, for what? It’s unforgivable. Idiotic.” His arms were heavy around Carisi.

“Prolly nothing was more fulfilling than passing the bar,” the detective said after a few moments. “Knowing I actually fucking _did it_ , you know. And in the back of my mind I always thought, sure, maybe someday I’d pursue a career in a different type of law, but until then it was something I could use to be better at my job as a detective. Something I could use to help my squad. To help the victims. To punish the bad guys. But working with SVU was the first time I found a real feeling of home, career-wise, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything but family. Love.

“Yeah, maybe we were _just friends_ , Raf, friends and colleagues, but I always _wanted_ something more and figured there might be a time when I wasn’t the annoying guy following you around asking dumb questions.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. Barba was barely breathing beneath him. “Then all the sudden there was a chance you might go to prison. Hell, you prolly would’ve if they’d charged you with something more logical than _murder_ , the fucking idiots.”

Barba let out a huff of surprised laughter in spite of his tension.

“I asked myself a lot of questions, Raf. I tried to convince myself that it was moot, that we could still be friends even if you went to prison and I could go visit you and _be_ your friend but that any chance of a romantic relationship was…gone. That I needed to give up thoughts of _someday_ and get on with my life. But…I couldn’t. I tried and I ended up just feeling sick _all the time_. Through your trial, all I could think was that I’d waited too long and missed my chance, and I finally had to admit to myself that it was more than being attracted to you, more than having a crush or whatever.

“And when the verdict came down I had a moment of relief and I thought…okay. I can tell him how I feel, maybe we can make it work. Maybe there’s still a chance. And then you left. You left without even…saying goodbye.” Carisi knew that Barba could hear the pain in his voice by the way his arms tightened. “When Liv said you were gone, that you’d quit, I tried to call you. You didn’t answer. So I texted to ask if you were okay. And you wrote back ‘ _I’m fine. Thank you_.’ Nothing else.”

“I’m sorry,” Barba said. His voice was thick with emotion and regret. “I’m so sorry, Sonny.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Raf—I don’t want you to be sorry. I knew you were hurt. And confused and probably scared. I tried to give you time. I figured you knew you could call me if you needed. But eventually I started to realize you probably never would because you didn’t think you deserved to reach out to the friends you left behind. And that meant I might never see you again. So I tracked you down. I came up here thinking there was a good chance you’d slam the door in my face and I’d have to decide between leaving you alone and kicking the door down, I figured I’d make my choice after I saw how you were. If you seemed…okay. And if I had to say goodbye then at least I’d know there was no chance. But the second I saw you, all I could think was ‘I love you, I don’t want to go the rest of my life without you.’ And you let me in.

“So, no, I don’t want to give up my life in the city or my job. But I want to give you up even less. If I have to make a choice, I choose you. I said it, I meant it, and it won’t change.”

“I would never ask you to do that,” Barba said. “I would never _let_ you do that.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask, and I won’t comment on the second part.”

“How can you be so…accepting?”

“I love you,” Carisi answered simply.

“I love you, too,” Barba said in a raw whisper, “but you deserve better.”

“There is no better than you. I know you don’t believe it so I guess you’ll just have to trust my judgement.”

Barba was silent for a full minute. His fingers were tracing light patterns on Carisi’s skin. “I always knew I’d have to go back to the city, back to work. Back to reality. Out here, I could convince myself that the solitude was a choice, but loneliness in the city is a whole other animal, and the thought terrified me. It still does. I knew I couldn’t hide from it forever.”

“You have a right to take as much time as you need. You didn’t plan to destroy the life you built, and don’t think I don’t know how hard you worked to get to where you were. Where you _are_ , because you can reclaim that life when you’re ready, if you want.”

“Maybe…this place could be our vacation house, you know? For weekends or holidays. To come, away from the city to decompress.” His voice was small, filled with cautiousness and insecurity, but there was a note of hope there, as well.

“I like that idea,” Carisi answered, turning his face to press a kiss to Barba’s chest. “Maybe we can spend Christmas up here. Snowed in with any luck.”

“That sounds nice,” Barba murmured.

“Do you feel up to a shower?” Carisi asked after a minute. Their bodies had cooled, their hearts slowed, and they were both aware of the mess they’d made. Carisi was glad they’d at least had enough presence of mind to put a towel down on the bed so they wouldn’t have to change the sheets.

“Yes,” Barba said, and Carisi levered himself up, rolling off the bed onto his feet. He helped Barba stand, and didn’t comment when the older man grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table.

In the bathroom, Carisi started the shower while Barba swallowed several ibuprofen, and they stepped into the swirl of steam together. They washed each other’s hair, taking their time, kissing often and letting their fingers roam. Then Carisi knelt with his back to the spray of water and sucked Barba until both men were hard, and when Barba turned away and leaned against the wall, Carisi used an indecent amount of lube and fucked him hard and fast until they were both barely able to stand.

They washed each other thoroughly, and then they dried each other before making their way back to bed to collapse into an exhausted tangle of limbs. They fell asleep with their naked bodies wrapped around each other, and they could almost believe that everything was right in the world.

 

*       *       *

 

Barba woke with a jolt, his body instantly in panic mode as the wails split the night. Carisi was already rolling away from him with a curse, and Barba pushed himself upright, blinking to bring the window into focus. It was closed, but the cries seemed louder, loud enough to fill the cabin.

Carisi was off the bed and stuffing his legs into a pair of sweats, and Barba felt a surge of alarm. “What are you doing?” he asked, swinging his own legs out from beneath the covers to put his feet on the floor. The room was dim, lit only by the moon filtering through the window, but he saw Carisi grab his service pistol from the dresser.

“I’m going to fire a shot, scare it off,” Carisi said.

“Don’t go outside,” Barba said, surging to his feet as Carisi strode from the room. Barba started to follow him and realized he was naked. He cursed, grabbing a pair of shorts and yanking them on before hurrying after Carisi. “Sonny,” he said, but Carisi was already stepping onto the porch. With the door open, the high-pitched wail was even louder, and Barba fought the urge to throw his hands over his ears.

The gunshot was loud, tearing through the night, and the cry cut off abruptly with a strangled yip; while the wailing sounded human, that yip sounded like that of a hurt animal.

“Jesus, did you shoot it?” Barba asked.

“No, I fired up,” Carisi said as an unnatural silence fell over the outside world. “Probably just scared it.” He paused, listening. Barba crept closer, peering out into the night. They could hear nothing but the rustle of wind, could see nothing creeping in the moonlit yard. “Maybe I should walk the perimeter—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Barba said, “go out there in the dark.”

“Okay,” Carisi agreed, stepping back into the house. With one last sweeping look over everything, he pushed the door closed and turned to face Barba. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Okay,” he repeated. “Are you alright? That was an abrupt wakeup call.”

“I was having a very pleasant dream, too,” Barba said.

“Yeah? Was I in it?”

“In _it_ and in _me_ ,” Barba answered. He yawned and shook his head. “Come on, let’s go back to bed, you tired me out earlier.”

“Yeah, alright,” Carisi said, reaching back to lock the door as he suppressed a yawn of his own.

 

*       *       *

 

The next time Barba woke, the morning sunlight was streaming through the open window, the sounds of birds singing filled the air, and Carisi was trailing kisses over his chest. “Mmm,” Barba said, shifting to stretch. “I’m somehow not surprised you’re such a morning person,” he muttered sleepily, running his fingers through Carisi’s hair, “but I need to get back into the habit of waking up early.”

“I like waking up before you,” Carisi murmured against his skin. “Then I can watch you sleep.”

“That’s creepy,” Barba chuckled. He knew Carisi had done more than lounge beside him in bed, anyway. At the very least, he’d rebuilt the fire and opened the windows; the air held a mixture of warmth and cool breeze.

“Now that you’re awake, you wanna have sex?” Carisi asked, tipping his head just far enough so he could see Barba’s face from the corner of his eye.

Barba laughed. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to be too hard to piss, and then we’ll both be sorry.”

Carisi flicked his tongue against Barba’s skin and then drew back, rolling onto his side and propping his cheek on his fist. “Hey, we never got to that spaghetti last night,” he said. “You want me to make it this morning?”

“Spaghetti for breakfast?” Barba asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Sure, why not?” Carisi returned with an endearing smile. “Load up on pasta first thing in the morning and veg out all day.”

“Hmm,” Barba said. “That sounds…”

“Not terrible, right?” Carisi grinned, nudging Barba’s leg with a knee.

“Not terrible,” Barba agreed. “You meant _after_ the sex, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Carisi said without hesitation, and they both laughed as Carisi leaned forward to plant a kiss on Barba’s lips. “I’m just patiently waiting for you to go pee.”

“I guess you _are_ a romantic,” Barba said, and Carisi laughed again.

“Can we do that thing from Lady and the Tramp where they meet in the middle of the spaghetti noodle to kiss?”

“Absolutely not,” Barba answered. “I do not share my food.”

Carisi pursed his lips in a pout.

“But if kissing someone with a mouthful of spaghetti is something that inexplicably turns you on, you can kiss me while I’m chewing, I suppose.”

Carisi rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his abdomen while he laughed, and Barba got out of bed reluctantly. He turned and looked down at Carisi; the detective was dressed in sweatpants that were pushed low on his hips, and Barba let his gaze follow the trail of dark hair that cut down Carisi’s stomach and disappeared into the waistband.

Carisi squinted an eye and peered up at him, still smiling. “If you’re thinking dirty thoughts, I wanna hear ‘em.”

“ _Quiero chuparte el estómago_.”

Carisi angled his head on the pillow and rubbed a hand over his stomach. “Yeah?” he asked with a lopsided smile. He scratched lightly at his skin, leaving soft pink lines. “I mark pretty easy.” He watched Barba’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and asked with exaggerated innocence: “That gonna be a problem?”

“Lucky for you it’s a little late for swimsuit season,” Barba answered in a low voice.

Carisi grinned and patted his belly. “You’re the artist, I’m the canvas.” He glanced down Barba’s body and back to his face. “Uh-oh, I think you’d better hurry.”

 

*       *       *

 

“What the hell are you listening to?” Barba asked as he crossed toward the kitchen.

Carisi chuckled without turning around. He was at the sink, pouring the pot of spaghetti into a colander. He had his phone on the counter, playing music. “You know this song.”

“Yeah, I know this _song_ ,” Barba shot back, stopping just inside the small kitchen to admire the sight. “But unless Lulu changed quite a bit from how I remember—”

“It’s Soul Asylum.”

“Don’t tell me the scruffy beard and flannel shirt are you trying to recapture the whole grunge _debacle_.”

“You like me like this,” Carisi said, and Barba could hear the smile in the other man’s voice.

“I like it if you’re going for a lumberjack vibe, but I won’t tolerate grunge,” Barba said, and Carisi laughed. “The nineties were bad enough the first time.”

“The nineties were great,” Carisi said. “Nirvana, Collective Soul, Live, Radiohead—” He broke off abruptly when he turned and caught sight of Barba with his face freshly-shaved. “Oh, shit,” he said, and it was Barba’s turn to laugh. Then, doing his best to gather his composure, Carisi cleared his throat and continued: “Beck, Joan Osborne, Smashing Pumpkins, Alanis…”

“ _MmmBop_ ,” Barba said, drawing out the _M_ s and popping the _P_.

“Exactly,” Carisi agreed. He turned to dump the drained spaghetti back into the pot, but he kept his shoulders angled so he could glance back at Barba. “That’s my favorite song, you know.”

“No,” Barba said, moving closer so Carisi wouldn’t hurt himself trying to keep an eye on him. “Your favorite song is Pearl Jam.”

Carisi’s hands faltered and after a moment he reached back to set the pan on the stove and turned to face Barba. His forehead was dipped into a frown as he regarded the other man.

“‘Wishlist,’” Barba said.

“How do you know that?” Carisi asked. His voice held hesitance and confusion.

“You quoted it your first week at SVU. Rollins said something about not killing the messenger, and you said ‘I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good,’ and she gave you a dirty look so you laughed and started to tell her it was from a song, but she shut you down.”

Carisi swallowed and chewed his lip for a moment. Barba stepped closer. “That doesn’t mean it’s my favorite,” Carisi muttered.

“But it is,” Barba insisted, tipping his head, his own expression etched in concern. “Or at least one of them. Why are you upset?”

“Why do you remember that?” Carisi asked.

“When you first transferred, it seemed unlikely you’d be around for long.”

Carisi was still frowning, but a small smile quirked his lips. “I didn’t make such a good first impression, huh?”

“Within five minutes of meeting you I wanted to fuck you, the next time we spoke I wanted to date you.”

Carisi’s eyebrows went up. “That can’t be true,” he said in surprise, “I still had the mustache.”

Barba smiled. “Shocked the shit out of me, too,” he answered. He reached out and put a hand on Carisi’s waist. “Anyway, Liv would’ve murdered me if I tried to seduce the new detective, so I figured I’d wait until she sent you packing. Then to my confusing mixture of joy and disappointment, you actually turned out to be brilliant and exceptionally good at your job.”

Carisi’s laugh was embarrassed, and color bloomed high on his cheeks. Barba couldn’t resist, and leaned forward to kiss the most beautiful lips he’d ever seen. Carisi reached up and palmed Barba’s newly-smooth jaw and hummed in approval against the other man’s mouth.

After long moments, he drew back to meet Barba’s eyes. “So you were gathering intel?” he asked. “Learning what I liked so you could ask me out?”

“Who said you’re the only romantic?” Barba smirked.

“That album came out the year I graduated high school. _Yield_. I bought the CD but man, I got so obsessed with that song and I didn’t have a CD player in my beat-up eighty-eight Ford Taurus,” he laughed, “so I bought the cassette, too. Do you know the song? There’s a line, ‘I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun,’ that line’s always got me.” His smile was sheepish, and he shrugged a shoulder. “I wouldn't say it’s my favorite song anymore, but…it means something that you figured that out because of some stupid comment I made.”

“‘I wish I was the verb _to trust_ and never let you down,’” Barba said quietly. “It’s a good song, Sonny.”

“There’s another Pearl Jam song I love now. It reminds me of you.” One side of Carisi’s mouth turned up. “Of us,” he added. “It’s called ‘Future Days,’ do you know it?”

“No,” Barba said. “But I’d like to listen to it with you.” He planted a quick kiss on Carisi’s lips and stepped back. “After you finish cooking, I’m starving and I shaved my damned beard so I wouldn’t get tomato sauce in it.”

Carisi grinned and turned back to the stove. “Almost ready,” he promised, glancing over as Barba pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and moved to the sink to wash the colander. Carisi stirred his sauce while Barba cleaned the strainer, and they listened to the music until it shuffled to Coolio. Carisi turned it off and said, “Okay, dinner-breakfast is ready.”

“Smells good,” Barba said. He turned to find Carisi watching him. “What?”

“I really like the beard, Raf, but I missed you so much that seeing you like this again…” He shook his head. There was a shine of emotion in his eyes, and he cleared his throat. “I feel bad I don’t know your favorite song, though,” he added in a lighter tone.

“‘Rhinestone Cowboy,’” Barba answered without hesitation.

Carisi blinked a few times. Barba regarded him steadily.

“I…don’t know if you’re joking…” Carisi admitted, searching the other man’s impassive expression. He waited, but Barba was giving nothing away. “Shit. Remind me to never play poker with you.”

“I will not. We _will_ play poker, strip poker, and I’ll let you win a prize _after_ you’ve lost every stitch of clothing.”

Carisi grinned, then abruptly sobered and reached for his phone, saying, “Oh, wait! Soul Asylum has a live version of ‘Rhinestone—’”

“Don’t you dare,” Barba warned, and Carisi threw his head back to laugh. _Please let this last forever_ , Barba thought with a rush of love and longing that stole his breath. He moved toward Carisi, and Carisi immediately opened his arms.

 

*       *       *

 

“This song makes me wanna make out with you, but I ate too much spaghetti,” Carisi lamented. He was stretched out on the couch, leaned back against a pillow on the armrest, his arms and legs wrapped around Barba as the older man lounged back against his chest. The fire was crackling, and the cabin was almost too hot; both men were wearing sweatpants and t-shirts, and the cotton was damp with sweat where their bodies were pressed together. Neither of them cared, as they both drifted toward sleep. They would be stiff and sore if they napped like this, but they didn’t care about that, either.

Pearl Jam’s “Future Days” ended, and Carisi let the music shuffle to the next random song because his arm was too heavy to reach up to the back of the sofa where the phone was resting.

“But I always wanna make out with you,” he added in a murmur. “It’s a good thing we won’t be working together anymore. I’d embarrass myself all day long.”

Barba smiled. His arms were resting over Carisi’s, his hands laced together on top of the detective’s. “If Liv forgives me for the way I left, she’ll be happy I finally got my head out of my ass to realize I had an actual shot at happiness.”

“Aww,” Carisi said, bending his head forward to kiss Barba’s hair, “is that me? Am I your shot at happiness?”

“Smartass,” Barba muttered, and Carisi chuckled softly.

“She’ll forgive you. She misses you, worries about you. She’ll be happy to have you back in the city.”

Barba let out a breath. After a moment, he said, “You haven’t asked what my plans are or if I even have any.”

“Your plans are your business. I just hope I’m part of ‘em.”

“You are. Of course you are.”

“Well, whatever else you decide, I’m in your corner.”

Barba blinked the sting of tears from his eyes and shifted a bit in Carisi’s embrace. “I love you,” he said. It was getting easier to say the words, easier to believe he might be able to escape his demons without letting them destroy his future with Carisi.

“Love you, too,” Carisi murmured sleepily, tucking his chin against Barba’s hair as he dozed off. The even rise and fall of his chest carried Barba into sleep a minute later.

 

*       *       *

 

They had Doritos and ice cream for supper after a day spent doing nothing but lounging around the house, reading and talking and making out. They drank beer and scotch and played Old Maid as they got tipsy. When they were on their way to being properly inebriated, they changed to poker. Carisi lost his shirt and pants in the first two hands—the only clothing he’d been wearing, so they left the cards in a mess on the floor and went to bed and fumbled around drunkenly until they’d managed to get each other off on the bedspread.

They stripped the comforter from the bed and threw it on the floor, crawled under the sheets, and fell asleep with their foreheads pressed together on the pillow.

When they woke a few hours later, it was cold—almost cold enough to see their breaths. The window was open, and the fire was long-dead. Barba was naked and covered only with a sheet, and he shivered, at first thinking it was the chill that had pulled him from sleep. But Carisi was on his back, propped up on his elbows, and Barba suddenly realized that the breathing he could hear wasn’t coming from the man beside him.

Cold fear slithered through him and he blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes, looking around the dark room. “What—” he started.

“Shh,” Carisi interrupted. There was no moonlight streaming through the window, and Barba could barely see the other man’s face. He could sense his tension, though. “It’s outside the window,” Carisi finally breathed. “Wait here.” He shifted the sheet aside carefully and made his way out of bed with as little noise as possible, and Barba managed to resist the urge to grab for his arm. He watched Carisi’s shape approach the window, and Barba’s heart was slamming in his chest. He had a sudden vision of a giant, furry appendage tearing through the screen and ripping into Carisi’s face with deadly claws.

Carisi’s heart was beating rapidly, too. He crept toward the screen, painfully aware of the fact that he was naked and his gun was seven feet away on top of the dresser. His skin was peppered with gooseflesh, and he didn’t know which ones were from the bite of cold in the air and which were from the unease crawling through him. It was dark outside, the moon hidden behind clouds; he could hear the whisper of leaves mingled with the chuffing breaths but could scarcely make out the shapes of the trees.

There was a wet snuffle from outside, and Carisi swallowed against his irrational fear. A moment later there was a scrabbling sound, something scratching at the side of the cabin.

Carisi leaned toward the screen. He wanted to get a glimpse of the animal before scaring it away, so they knew once and for all what they were dealing with. He put his hand on the window frame to brace himself.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Barba pleaded, the sound barely audible.

A puff of warm air hit Carisi’s face, and he wrinkled his nose at the sudden, cloying scent of something spoiled; an aroma like putrid meat that the screen did nothing to filter from the air. _Warm_ , he thought as his brain struggled to process several things at once: the smell of rotten flesh; the _not-right_ shape of the dark treeline; the rush of warm air from the chilly night.

The improbable shine as something caught a hint of light out of the darkness and reflected it.

 _An eye_.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ , he thought, taking a sudden, lurching step backward. Something pressed against the screen, tenting it slowly inward. He could hear the sound of the screen stretching, and then a few small _ping_ sounds as a couple of pieces broke free from the frame. He could see the dark shape, the size of a softball, pushing into the metal mesh, not tearing, pushing slowly—

There was a loud snort, and another blast of hot, rancid air found Carisi’s face as he stood, rooted to the floor a single step away from the window.

“Sonny,” Barba said, and the alarm in his voice snapped Carisi out of his paralysis.

“Fuck,” the detective said. He clapped his hands loudly, once, in front of himself, but the shape pushing at the screen didn’t let up. A low growl started, steadily growing louder, and Carisi’s skin was crawling as he turned and crossed quickly to the dresser. He snatched up his gun and was whirling back toward the window when Barba turned on the light.

Carisi flinched, blinking at the sudden brightness. He squinted, his vision momentarily blurring with tears, trying to focus on the window.

“Shit, sorry,” Barba said breathlessly. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Carisi assured him, moving cautiously toward the window. Whatever had been pushing against the screen was gone. He could see nothing but blackness beyond the window frame, but the screen was hanging looser than before, misshapen in the middle. Carisi tried to calm the racing of his heart, but his body was shaking from the rush of adrenaline. “It’s okay,” he repeated, swiping his shaky left hand over his face. “That’s good, I think the light scared it away.” He pushed the window closed and locked it.

“What was it? I couldn’t really see but—was it trying to get in?”

Carisi could hear the barely-controlled panic running through the tremor in Barba’s voice, and the other man’s fear helped to ease some of Carisi’s. He had to stay calm to reassure Barba. “Just an animal, probably a bear,” he said, moving toward the bed to comfort the other man. “It’s too big to fit through there, anyway, it was just checking it out. Curious.”

“Curious about how your face would taste,” Barba said with a nervous laugh. “It’s never done that before…I don’t think…”

“Maybe it’s jealous,” Carisi said. He smiled and bent down to kiss the other man, running his fingers through Barba’s hair to calm him.

“Jealous?”

“Sure, maybe it’s got the hots for you. Saw the beard, couldn’t resist. Then here I am, making moves on you…”

“Well, gee, I wouldn’t want to break its heart.” He paused. “Maybe it’s mad because I shaved.”

Carisi laughed. “I’m gonna go turn the porch light on and see if I can see anything. You want to wait here?”

“Fuck, no,” Barba said, and Carisi laughed again, helping Barba from the bed. Barba slipped on his sweats, and Carisi fetched his own from the living room, pulling them on. They walked to the front door together and Carisi flipped on the outside light. Holding his gun in his right hand, he cracked the door open, keeping his foot braced in front of it in case anything suddenly tried to push its way inside.

Barba smiled to himself. Surely Carisi’s foot wouldn’t hold up against the weight of a bear, and yet the precaution made Barba feel safe; protected.

“Let’s leave the light on,” Carisi suggested.

“Okay.”

“Hopefully it’s gone for the night. We can look around in the morning.”

“Okay,” Barba repeated, running his hand over Carisi’s back as the detective closed the door and locked it. “It’s been a lot more vocal the past couple of nights. Maybe it’s you it’s interested in.”

“Don’t worry, Raf,” Carisi said, casting him a quick smile before looking at the rifle in the rack above the door. “Nothing can steal my heart from you. Is this yours?” It was the first time he’d asked about the gun, even though Barba had seen him eyeing it curiously a few times.

“Came with the place,” Barba answered.

“I’d like to give you some shooting lessons.”

“Why?” Barba asked.

“Well,” Carisi said, reaching up to pull the gun down, “if you’re here alone, and someone or something—”

“Dog Man?”

“—shows up, I’d like to know you can defend yourself.” Carisi checked the safety on his service weapon before handing it to Barba, then cracked the rifle to make sure it was loaded. “You got more ammo for this?”

“That’s bullets, right?” Barba laughed when Carisi shot him a dirty look. “Yes, I have ammo, Detective,” Barba said, arching an eyebrow. “First drawer in the kitchen.”

“Will you let me show you how to shoot?”

“If you want,” Barba answered. “I assume you mean _after_ sunrise?”

“Yeah,” Carisi said, snapping the gun closed and returning it to the rack. “Can you reach this?”

“If I stand on my toes,” Barba shot back.

“Okay, okay, don’t be offended,” Carisi laughed. “Just checking.”

“You feel hungover?”

“Not really,” Carisi said. “Shit, I’d probably still be a little drunk if that whole—” He gestured toward the bedroom. “—ordeal hadn’t sobered me up real fast. You?”

“I need some water and aspirin, but not bad, no.” Barba looked at the clock. “I’m wide awake now, though.”

“Uh-oh,” Carisi said, turning all the way toward him. “What should we do to pass the time.”

“First of all, take this thing back,” Barba said, holding out the gun. Carisi reached down and palmed Barba’s crotch, instead, and Barba grunted in surprise.

“This?”

“Funny. Also, it’s freezing in here. You want a fire?”

“Nah, I’ll warm you up,” Carisi answered with a wink, and Barba rolled his eyes. Carisi pulled the pistol from Barba’s fingers. “After we get rid of your headache,” he added.

“We’ll turn all the lights on inside,” Barba said. “If anything wants to watch through the window, we’ll give it a good show.”

Carisi groaned. “I don’t know if I can perform under that kind of pressure.”

Barba grinned. “Performance anxiety? I’ll let you know a secret, Detective Carisi, something hardly anyone knows.”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Well,” Barba said, stepping closer and running a finger over a couple of the fading marks on Carisi’s abdomen, “stomachs aren’t the only thing I’m good at sucking.”

Carisi swallowed. “Secret’s safe with me,” he managed.

“Yeah,” Barba agreed, smiling at him. “That’s the thing about you, Sonny. I always know I’m safe with you.”

 

*       *       *

 

“What’s wrong?” Barba asked when he stepped out of the house to find Carisi in a crouch beside the front tire of his car. The detective had a cup of soapy water in his hand, and the tire glistened wetly in the morning sunlight.

Carisi looked up. He tried to smooth the frown from his forehead but couldn’t quite hide his concern. “Two of the tires are flat,” he said. “I don’t know for sure if it happened last night, it’s possible I just didn’t notice before.”

“Two?” Barba asked, walking down the steps and toward Carisi. He looked around, scanning the forest, as he crossed the distance. The feeling of being watched was more pressing than ever.

Carisi heard the skepticism in Barba’s voice. “Both front tires. It seems…unlikely that happened during the drive in here…”

“You find the problem?”

“This one’s a puncture. It could be from a nail, but if it is, the nail’s gone. I can plug this and pump it up, though. The other side is…well, take a look.” He set the cup on the ground and rose to follow Barba around the front of the car. The side of the tire was shredded.

“Probably would’ve noticed if that happened while you were driving,” Barba muttered, glancing around again as his stomach fluttered nervously.

“I’m gonna put the spare on this side, plug the other and make sure it holds air. If they all look good after a bit, I’m gonna run to town and get new tires, and I’m getting you a security camera and some motion-activated lights. There’re mounts where someone had some up, but they’re gone now.”

“This place was empty for a couple of years before I bought it. Should’ve seen me after two days of cleaning. I looked like Pig-Pen.” Barba spoke absently, looking at the ruined tire. He’d forgotten he was holding two mugs of coffee until Carisi reached for one.

“You wanna come with me?” Carisi asked. He sipped carefully at the hot liquid, watching Barba over the rim of the mug while waiting for a response.

“No, if it’s going to be a few hours before you go—Right? We have to take the tires off, change one, plug the other, wait to make sure they hold air?”

“A few hours before I go, yeah,” Carisi agreed.

“Then I’ll stay here and start supper. I pulled the steaks out already.”

“Hmm, you cook _and_ give the best oral—”

“Watch it,” Barba laughed.

“Oh, right. Don’t wanna make the woodland creatures jealous,” Carisi said with a wink. “But damn, if I’d known what I was missing, I would’ve quit my job and begged you to marry me years ago.”

Barba regarded him in silence, and saw Carisi trying to decide whether or not to call his words back. “All that for a blowjob, huh?” Barba finally asked. He immediately grimaced and held up his free hand. “Sorry, don’t answer that. Old habits die hard. Let me, uh…” He licked his lips, glanced around, and met Carisi’s eyes again. “Let me try that again. Thank you, I’m flattered, I’m glad you enjoyed it, you never would’ve had to beg, I love you, and I’ve never sucked a dick that I wanted to suck again—until yours.”

“Well, hell,” Carisi laughed. “Look at me, blushing like no one’s ever mentioned my dick before.”

“I’m sure it’s been the topic of a lot of conversations.”

“I doubt that, but I’m glad you’re happy with it because it’s all yours now.” Carisi cleared his throat. “So listen, after I take care of these tires, will you let me show you how to shoot the rifle? I’ll feel better leaving you here alone if I know you can fire it if you need to.”

“If it’ll make you feel better,” Barba said, sipping his coffee. It was another nice morning; the sun was chasing away the chill, and the birds were chirping. “Do you want me to go with you? I don’t want you to think—I mean, I’m not avoiding town, or it’s not that I don’t want to ride with you, but you’re not planning on being gone that long and it makes sense to stay here and start supper.”

“No, stay, I won’t be long, like you said. But…come look.” He gestured with his chin and they walked toward the corner of the cabin together. Before they’d gotten to the bedroom window, Barba could see the scratches down the wall beneath it. The ground sloped toward the foundation, and the bottom of the window was barely at eye-level for Carisi.

There were scratches along the sides of the window, and the screen was rippling in the light breeze, noticeably stretched.

“That’s, what? Seven feet plus a couple inches,” Carisi said. He pointed at the bottom of the window frame. The wood was glistening with slime that had dribbled over the edge and partway down the wall. “Spit or snot,” Carisi said with a shrug.

“Gross.”

“Guessing drool,” Carisi added. “But yeah, a bear standing seven or eight feet upright, that’s not getting through that window. Doesn’t mean it couldn’t cause some damage, though—both to the house and anyone who might be standing too close.”

“It can’t be rabid, right? It wouldn’t hide during the day.”

“Right. It’s probably just looking for food. Like you said, this place was empty for a while, it prolly got used to no one being around. But once we get some lights and camera set up, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with. In the meantime I…think it’s best we don’t come outside without one of the guns.”

“Do you think this bear or whatever is actually responsible…for killing the Anderson kid?”

“I don’t know,” Carisi said. “If so, it might need to be put down. But, hey, we’ll worry about that later. You wanna watch me jack a car and change some tires?”

“God, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

*       *       *

 

“Keep this here or you’re gonna bruise the shit outta your shoulder and maybe knock yourself on your ass.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Barba joked. Carisi was behind him, pressed up close against his back with his arms wrapped around Barba to position the rifle. “Is this how target practice always goes? I should’ve asked for lessons years ago.”

“Naw, not always—this is just ‘cause I like you.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“That’s my keys.”

“If you say so.”

“Focus, alright. Don’t lock your elbow but keep your grip firm here. Keep your eyes open.”

“I can’t scrunch my eyes closed and fire?”

“So many jokes this morning,” Carisi murmured near his ear, and Barba chuckled quietly. “Both eyes open. Be mindful of your breathing so it doesn’t throw off your aim. Don’t be discouraged if you miss the bottle, it’s a small target and we’re gonna keep practicing. We’re just working on some basics, here.”

“You smell good.”

“Thanks. It’s pheromones, y’know, like a mating call. My body goes into overdrive when I’m close to you.”

Barba laughed and turned his head to kiss Carisi’s smile.

“Okay, seriously. Look at the bottle, you can do this,” Carisi said, and Barba turned his attention back to the empty beer bottle that Carisi had set on a log. “I’m gonna step back and off to the side. I’m gonna put these ear muffs on you and then step back. Remember everything we went over, focus, squeeze the trigger gently. Alright?”

“Yes.”

Carisi shifted the muffs over Barba’s ears and stepped away, watching as the other man adjusted his grip, sighted the bottle, took a breath, and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the shot echoed through the trees, scaring several birds into the air. The beer bottle exploded outward, spraying the ground with glass.

Barba relaxed his hold and pointed the rifle toward the ground, turning his head to look at Carisi. Carisi looked him over, from his too-innocent expression, and the twinkle in his eyes, to the smirk playing at his lips. Barba reached up and pushed the ear muffs back so they were hanging around his neck.

“You’ve done this before,” Carisi said.

“I told you, the first night that thing started screaming outside, I almost crawled out of my skin. I googled some videos, rode my bike almost an hour into town because Hawley doesn’t sell ammo. Bought the ear muffs and bullets, came out here and put holes in a bunch of trees over on the other side of the house before I ever hit the scotch bottle I was aiming for.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you already knew how to shoot?”

Barba raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t ask.”

“I insulted you,” Carisi said. “By assuming you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Aw, come here,” Barba said, reaching out a hand and settling it onto Carisi’s shoulder when he’d stepped close enough. “Why would you think I knew how to shoot a gun? I never did before coming up here. Anyway, even if I’d said I’d been practicing, you would’ve wanted me to show you for the sake of reassurance, and this way I got to have your arms around me.”

Carisi exhaled. “Sorry. But that was an impressive shot. Not that I’m surprised by your ability to learn anything you try. How accurate are you? What’s your ratio?”

“Line ‘em up and I’ll knock ‘em down,” Barba said, giving his smirk free rein.

“Of course,” Carisi said, rolling his eyes. “Perfectionist.”

“You’re a much better teacher than I am, by the way. I should’ve been more like you when we were going over all that case law.”

Carisi laughed. “Trust me, you wrapping your arms around me would _not_ have helped me focus on legal precedent. Alright, well, if you’re game then I’m gonna watch you demolish a few more bottles—not because I don’t think you can, but because you’re hotter than hell right now. Then, since the tires are holding up, I’m gonna run to the store before it’s too late. If there’s anything you need while I’m there, we can make a list. Then…I’ll set up the camera and lights, we’ll have a nice steak dinner…”

“Alright, set me up with another bottle, _maestro_. And don’t stare at my ass when I shoot.”

“I make no promises.”

 

*          *          *

 

Barba was sitting on the sofa, reading a book. The steaks were sizzling in a pan in the kitchen and would need to be turned in a minute. The potatoes were sliced and ready to be sautéed when the time was right, and it would only take a few minutes to heat the green beans. It wasn’t exactly a gourmet meal, but it was more than anything Barba had cooked for himself in a long time.

And he wouldn’t be eating alone. Carisi had texted him to tell him he would “be home in an hour,” and even though Barba knew that the cabin was only a _temporary_ home at best, seeing the words had filled him with warmth and happiness the likes of which he’d thought he would never feel.

That was half an hour ago, so Barba knew it wasn’t Carisi when a loud thud on the porch startled him away from his book. He looked back at the door, his heart jumping in his chest. For several seconds there was nothing, and then a series of smaller thuds found his ears and he dropped his book aside as he surged to his feet.

He looked at the rifle hanging above the door. Whatever was on the porch was right on the other side of that door.

 _Maybe a squirrel_ , he thought. _Or the foxes_. He hadn’t seen them since Carisi’s arrival, but they might still be nearby. _Or a person_. He frowned. He hadn’t heard a vehicle, and it was unlikely that anyone would’ve walked up. Even less likely that they’d be thumping around on the porch making too much noise to be something small like a squirrel.

Barba walked toward the door, telling himself to stay calm. There was no sense overreacting. Even if it was the bear—

_Dog Man_

—it was outside, and he was inside. With a gun. As soon as he could get his hands on it, anyway. He crept to the door, his bare feet quiet on the floor, and reached up to pull the rifle from the rack. As soon as he had his hand on the gun, something slammed loudly on the other side of the door, and he jumped, almost falling backward as he stumbled away from the door. He managed to keep his grip on the gun, barely. His heart was in his throat.

 _Screen door_ , he thought, swallowing. The screen door slapping back against the frame, that’s what the noise had been. Barba licked his lips and adjusted his grip on the gun, considering his options. The door was locked, so if it was a person—

 _Don’t be an idiot_.

He released a slow breath to calm himself.

 _Okay_ , he thought, _alright_. _Use your head, Barba_.

Holding the rifle by his side, he went to the kitchen and turned off the stove burner. He walked into the living room and grabbed his cell phone, slipping it into his pocket.

There was a screeching sound at the living room window, and his head turned toward the sound.

 _Like nails on a chalkboard_. The sound made his teeth hurt.

 _Like claws on glass_ , his brain corrected. Fear had settled into a cold, hard lump in his stomach. The curtains were drawn against the late afternoon sun that had been shining on his face while he tried to read. He took a step toward the window, his fingers itching to throw back the curtain and see what monstrosity he might find peering back at him.

His hand trembled as he reached toward the string that would draw the curtains apart. His heart was slamming, making the blood roar in his ears. He swallowed, gathered his resolve, and gave the string a yank. The curtains stuttered halfway open, jittering as sunlight poured into the room.

There was nothing at the window. Barba edged closer, flipping back a corner of the half-open curtains to get a better look. He craned his neck and looked down to the ground below the window. There was nothing moving out there, no hulking shapes covered in fur.

There were tracks in the dirt, large animal prints that led to the edge of the grass and disappeared in the green growth. There were scratch marks on the glass; the screen was shredded and hanging in flaps.

Barba made an involuntary sound when the wailing started, and he stepped away from the window and turned toward the bedroom. That sound, so much like the cries of an anguished child, made his whole body shake. It had never happened during the day time, before. The animal had never tried to get into the house before, at least not past a few scratches on the walls.

 _Were the flat tires meant to strand us here, or to get Carisi out of the way?_ he thought.

 _Carisi. Sonny_. He would be home soon, and Barba had to warn him before he pulled into the yard. He drew his phone from his pocket, but his hand was shaking so badly that he dropped it to the rug. He bent to retrieve it and froze for a moment as the crying grew louder, reaching an unbearable pitch as it warbled through the cabin, and every hair on Barba’s body stood on end.

It was at the bedroom window. The window was closed, but the screaming was so loud that Barba shoved his phone back into his pocket and put his left hand over his ear, trying to muffle the piercing cries.

“ _Go away_!” he yelled, and the sound of his own voice was like a slap to the face. He blinked, and for a moment he saw himself as he would appear to an outsider: a middle-aged man standing uselessly in the middle of his living room, gun held by his side, hand clapped over his ear, begging a wild animal to leave him alone.

His flush of shame lasted only a moment, and then the anger came in a rush. He grabbed at it gratefully, letting it melt the icy fear in his gut.

This cabin was supposed to be his refuge, a safe place away from the horrors of the world until he was able to face them again, and since his arrival he’d spent too many nights awake in his bed, afraid to close his eyes for fear the awful sounds would resume outside.

And now this animal was terrorizing him in broad daylight? It had sapped the peaceful happiness out of some of his time with Carisi, and had made Barba question his own sanity on more than one occasion.

“Go away,” he repeated, quieter this time.

The wailing stopped abruptly, choked off.

Barba drew a deep, steadying breath and released it slowly, tightening his grip on the gun. _Enough_ , he thought. _I won’t live like this_.

He turned and walked to the door. He slipped on his sneakers and paused, head bent forward, listening for signs of movement. Everything outside seemed quiet. He unlocked the door and, planting his foot in front of it, cracked it open. He surveyed what he could see of the yard and woods through the screen, and saw no animals. He moved his foot and opened the door wider, keeping his finger on the trigger guard.

Part of him expected something to leap at him, but he forced his feet to carry him outside. He closed the screen door carefully and crept to the edge of the porch with the rifle in his hands. In spite of his new resolve, his palms were sweaty against the cool metal of the shotgun, and his heart was jitterbugging in his chest. He knew he was overreacting—it was just an animal, and if he couldn’t scare it away with a shot in the air, he could surely take it down with a shot to the chest—but his feelings about this animal had never been rational from the start.

Barba stepped carefully down the stairs, avoiding the spots that he knew would creak. He was scanning the woods, but as soon as his foot touched the grass, he caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head, his stomach lurching. He saw a flash of dark fur disappearing around the corner of the cabin, and he stood for a moment, his heart slamming and his mouth dry. He readjusted his grip on the rifle, debating. He looked around and didn’t see any other movement except the swaying of the forest.

He walked cautiously along the side of the house, throwing glances over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure nothing was sneaking up behind him. When he got to the corner, he didn’t allow himself to hesitate more than a moment. He stepped quickly into the open, pointing the gun.

He caught only a glimpse of dark hair, again vanishing around the corner. _This is stupid_ , he thought, anger and frustration and fear warring within him. _I can’t just follow it around in circles._ He gathered his courage and added haste to his steps, walking quickly to the next corner and swinging the gun around as he rounded the house. Nothing. Not a shadow, not a tuft of fur.

He glanced up, suddenly afraid he would see the creature perched like a gargoyle on the roof or hanging from the eaves like a gigantic bat. There was nothing, of course. He looked back over his shoulder, scanned the edge of the woods, and debated for only a moment before deciding to double back. If it was circling the house, maybe he could catch it off guard.

He moved with determination, refusing to let the fear slow his footsteps, and he was at the previous corner in a matter of seconds. He rounded the house gun-first and saw nothing. He glanced back once and then sprinted to the next corner. His heart was slamming as he turned and raised the rifle.

Nothing.

He slowed down as he approached the porch, because he couldn’t see into the recess. He scanned it quickly; nothing. Over his shoulder, nothing. In the treeline, nothing. There was only one side of the house he hadn’t yet checked, and he tightened his hold on the rifle as he neared the corner. He took a breath and held it, listening. He could hear nothing, not scrabbling feet in the dirt, not a chuff of breath.

He stepped around the corner expecting to see the hulking shape. He even flinched as he brought around the gun, bracing himself for a giant paw to swipe it from his hands.

Nothing.

“Where the fuck are you,” he muttered under his breath, swiping the sweat from his forehead with his left arm. He made his way back to the porch and up the steps, surveying the yard and woods one last time. Everything was still, quiet.

He let himself back into the house and closed the door, letting out a shaky breath. He shook his left hand in an attempt to rid it of its tremor, but the adrenaline had his whole body wired. He crossed to the kitchen and flipped the steaks before turning the burner back on.

He still had the shotgun in his hand when he walked back to the living room on rubbery legs. He leaned the rifle against the end of the sofa and drew out his phone before sinking into the cushions with a sigh. He set the phone on his thigh and leaned his head back against the couch, closing his eyes as he tried to get control of his body.

He drew a bracing breath and frowned, his stomach fluttering unpleasantly. Something smelled…rotten.

There was a soft snort, barely audible, and a warm puff of air ruffled his hair. His eyes snapped open and he lurched forward off the couch. His phone thudded to the floor as he rose and whirled, stumbling backward.

He saw the hulking shape, dark, blocking out the view of the kitchen as the animal loomed up behind the sofa. It stared at him with large green eyes and slowly rose until it was fully upright, the points of its ears brushing the ceiling.

“Jesus,” Barba gasped, backing away. He hit the coffee table and tried to swerve, but his feet tangled and he went down hard, the corner of the coffee table gouging his hip as he fell. He landed on the floor and struggled to catch his breath as the animal moved slowly toward the end of the sofa.

 _That’s not a bear, Jesus Christ that’s not a fucking bear_ , Barba thought, but panic had robbed him of rationality. He scrabbled backward, gritting his teeth against the flare of pain in his hip.

It had a long snout like a dog, and Barba thought, _Hawley was right_. A hysterical laugh tried to bubble out of his throat and he choked it back. The animal was covered in mangy, dark fur with streaks of white on the sides of its head and jutting from its chin. Its eyes were green and watchful, latched onto Barba’s face as the animal—

_Dog Man_

—walked on its hind legs from behind the sofa.

Its nostrils were flaring as it sniffed at the air. Its chest was heaving. Barba looked down the length of its body.

 _Definitely a boy doggy, then_ , Barba said, with just enough presence of mind to realize that he was dangerously close to losing his grip on his sanity.

_I’ll tell Hawley he was right again. That I—_

_—what did he say?—_

_—checked under the hood. Dog Man, not Dog Woman._

Its snout wrinkled back, exposing long, yellowed teeth, and a low growl rumbled from its throat. It stepped past the end of the couch, eyes glued to Barba’s face, lips curled in a snarl.

 _Kill me, then_ , Barba thought. _Rip out my throat, anything is better than not knowing if I’m crazy or not_. His mind revolted at the idea, and he swallowed, thinking, _no, you fucking coward, do something, you can’t let Sonny find you and know you just gave up_.

The Dog Man’s foot— _paw_ —caught the rifle and sent it clattering to the floor. The animal looked down in surprise, its growl morphing into something like a whine. Barba looked at the gun, then quickly back at the doglike face as those large green eyes returned to his.

There was no time to think about pros and cons. Barba twisted his body and threw himself forward, grabbing for the rifle and rolling away with it clutched in one hand. He came to a rest on his back with his feet near the end of the sofa, and he pointed the gun up at the huge animal standing over him.

Barba’s hands were shaking, but he drew a breath.

 _Shoot it_ , he thought.

The animal stepped over Barba’s legs so it was straddling him and leaned forward, lips curling. Saliva dripped from its fangs onto Barba’s shirt. It bent down until its chest was pressed against the muzzle of the gun, and still Barba didn’t fire. He stared up into those green eyes and could see himself reflected back.

The cry started soft and low, warbling out of the Dog Man’s throat and past its drawn-back lips. The animal planted one huge, heavy paw against Barba’s chest, its claws digging into shirt and skin—not enough to draw blood, not yet, but Barba could feel the weight pressing down against his ribcage, pushing him against the floor.

The wailing was growing louder, the sound so mismatched to the animal’s appearance that Barba felt his mind threatening to break. The weight of the paw was painful, bearing down on him, and the animal’s chest was pushing the butt of the rifle into Barba’s shoulder, making his arm tingle.

“I don’t want to shoot you,” Barba said in a small, wavery voice. He didn’t know it was true until the words left his lips, but Hawley’s voice had been in the back of his mind for the past two days: _I think he’s the only one left_. “Just go away. Just go away.”

The animal’s cry rose higher, quivering in the air, closer to the sound of a violin than a baby, now.

Barba didn’t hear the door open, but he heard the rustle-thud as a heavy bag fell to the floor, and he heard a curse. The Dog Man’s wail cut off abruptly as the animal’s head whipped toward the sound, and the painful pressure was suddenly gone from Barba’s chest as the animal reared up to its full height.

“Sonny,” Barba breathed as he caught sight of the man just inside the doorway. New fear lanced Barba’s chest, fear for no one but Carisi. “Go,” he said, but Carisi already had his gun leveled. The shot was loud in the small space, and so was the howl of pain that left the Dog Man’s throat as the bullet tore through its shoulder in a spray of fur and blood.

Barba felt a moment of sympathy for the animal, and then it dropped forward to all fours in spite of the wound in its shoulder and leapt toward Carisi with a snarl.

 _No, no,_ Barba thought. It didn’t matter what happened to him and it didn’t matter what happened to the fucking aberration that was trailing blood across the floor; Barba couldn’t let that _thing_ destroy Carisi, that was all that mattered.

A second shot broke through the air, and then a third. Each brought a cry of pain from the animal, but it didn’t slow. It had reached Carisi before Barba had even managed to roll onto his side, and Barba saw the animal rear up and swipe at Carisi, shredding the front of his shirt with a single pass of its claws.

Carisi fired a fourth shot as the Dog Man sent him reeling against the wall, but his arm was knocked sideways and the bullet tore into the wood floor halfway between Barba and the kitchen.

“Run, Raf,” Carisi grunted as he hit the wall.

 _Sonny_ , Barba thought, shoving himself to his feet in spite of his pain. He didn’t pause to think. He drew up the rifle, sighted the animal’s back where its heart should be buried, and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the shot was louder than Carisi’s, and the bullet ripped into the animal’s body. It screamed and fell against Carisi, pinning him to the wall and knocking his pistol to the floor as Carisi was trying to bring it up.

The creature didn’t look back at Barba. It was staring at Carisi as blood dribbled to the floor at their feet. Barba couldn't fire again—any tremble or jitter and he might hit Carisi. He started forward; he couldn’t let himself hesitate or Carisi would die.

The Dog Man drew its head back and bared its teeth, and Barba crossed the room in an instant. He fired the gun point-blank at the animal’s head, exploding the side of its skull, and the animal reeled around in a half-circle and tumbled to the ground in a twisted mass of bloody fur. It twitched and spasmed for a few seconds and fell still as blood pooled around what remained of its head.

The room began to spin around him, and Barba swayed for a moment before dropping heavily to his knees. He barely noticed the pain. He knew he was close to hyperventilating but he couldn’t focus, and black spots were crowding his vision. From the corner of his eye he saw Carisi slide down the wall until he was sitting in the animal’s blood, and Barba turned his head, struggling to blink the other man’s face into focus.

“Raf,” Carisi said, looking at him. Carisi’s face was pale and drawn, and his hand was shaking as he reached out and dragged the pistol across the floor to his side. “Are you okay?”

 _No, no, no_ , Barba thought, seeing the shredded remains of Carisi’s shirt. He dropped onto his hands and knees and crawled over to Carisi, his hands slipping briefly in the blood and nearly sending him sprawling. “Sonny,” he said, frantically running his bloody hands over the front of Carisi’s shirt, pulling the fabric open, looking for wounds. “Jesus, Sonny, are you—”

“I’m okay,” Carisi assured him, grabbing Barba’s wrists with quaking hands. “Look at me, look at me, I’m okay, it barely scratched me. Raf, are you hurt?”

Barba shook his head as tears of relief filled his eyes. “Jesus,” he repeated, clutching at Carisi’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” the detective agreed.

“Shoot it again,” Barba said.

“It’s dead, you blew half its head off.”

“Shoot it again,” Barba repeated with a note of pleading in his voice.

“It’s not breathing,” Carisi said, but he’d picked up his service pistol.

“I don’t care. I don’t care, it’s not a normal animal—”

“Breathe, baby,” Carisi said, putting a hand to Barba’s cheek. “It’s okay, it’s over. We need to call the state troopers and have someone get up here to look at this thing.”

“Please shoot it again, please,” Barba begged.

“Okay,” Carisi said. There was no way he could refuse Barba’s plea. The detective shifted over and up onto his knees. He bent over the dead animal, looking at it, watching and listening for any signs of life. Part of him expected the creature to lunge at him, even though it was clearly dead; Carisi didn’t know if it was Barba’s worry or just the fact that Carisi had watched too many horror movies in his youth.

Carisi leveled the pistol at the animal’s head and pulled the trigger. The head lolled beneath the force of the shot, but the rest of the animal didn’t stir.

Carisi holstered his gun and crawled away from the pool of blood and the corpse, dropping onto his ass at the edge of the kitchen and reaching for Barba. Barba sidled up to him, keeping a distrustful eye on the dead animal.

“It’s okay,” Carisi said, stroking Barba’s hair from his forehead. “It’s okay, Raf, you killed it.”

Barba shook his head. “You did,” he said. “You shot it—”

“My bullets barely slowed it down,” Carisi murmured, pulling Barba’s head down onto his shoulder to comfort him. “You did it, you killed it, Rafael.”

“I couldn’t let it hurt you—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Carisi said.

Barba felt some of the tension leaving his body, and he swallowed against the lump of emotion in his throat. “I’m…not crazy, right, Sonny?” he asked hesitantly. “You saw it, too? I mean, really saw it?”

“It’s definitely not a bear,” Carisi said, and cool relief flooded Barba. The detective laughed, and the sound was music to Barba’s ears. “Not Bigfoot either,” he added. He shifted his hip and pulled out his phone, looking it over to make sure it wasn’t broken. “Whatever it is, it fucking stinks.” He unlocked his phone and paused, sniffing the air. “Speaking of stinks,” he said, “I think something’s burning.”

“Shit, the steaks,” Barba said. He rolled away from Carisi and pushed to his feet, but his left leg nearly gave out and he made a sound of surprise as pain flared through his hip.

Carisi’s gaze sharpened on his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” Barba said, but the detective was already on his feet. “I hit my hip on the corner of the coffee table and…then the floor hit me,” Barba said with a small smile. He rubbed at his hip but immediately drew his hand back with a hiss of pain. “It’s just a scrape, nothing’s broken. I’m just sore is all.”

“We’re going to a hospital as soon as someone comes to take care of this thing,” Carisi said. “Are you okay to stand?”

“Sonny, I’m fine—”

Carisi left him for only a moment, hurrying over to turn off the stove and shove the pan to a cold burner, and then he was back at Barba’s side. Barba stared blankly at the dead animal while Carisi called the state police and explained the situation. The detective cited his credentials when the dispatcher suggested he call animal control, and said, “This isn’t a rabid raccoon or a pissed off bear, ma’am, we need Fish and Wildlife _and_ state troopers, and we need them now. I need to get my boyfriend to a hospital to be checked out, and we can’t leave this thing here. They’ll understand when they get here.”

After he’d shoved the phone back into his pocket, Carisi turned and peered at Barba’s face.

“You’re really pale,” the detective said.

“So are you,” Barba shot back, and Carisi smiled. Barba’s legs felt weak and his hip hurt when he put his full weight on it, but he was able to stand. He knew he was lucky. They were both lucky.

“Do you want to sit on the couch?”

“No,” Barba said, glancing down at their bloody clothes. “Can we go outside? The smell is giving me a headache.”

“Of course,” Carisi said, taking his arm. They skirted the dead animal and its pool of blood and pushed open the screen door, stepping onto the porch. Barba was limping, but Carisi helped him down two steps and then they sat on the edge of the porch.

“Sorry about supper,” Barba said as Carisi wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“We’ll get something on our way back from the hospital.”

“We don’t have to come back here tonight. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up and who knows how late it’ll be—”

“I’ll clean up, don’t worry,” Carisi said.

“It’s not your responsibility.”

“I’m not letting some smelly, overgrown dog drive you out of your home.”

Barba laughed in surprise but sobered quickly, looking at Carisi. “This isn’t home, not really. It was just a place to hide out.”

“You love this place,” Carisi countered softly as he searched Barba’s face.

“Yes, but…there are so many bad memories here—and not just mine—”

“We’ll make more happy memories,” Carisi promised. “If and when you come back to the city—”

“I’m going when you go, I’d already decided,” Barba said. “If…you’ll have me.”

Carisi kissed him gently. “Of course,” he said. “But we can always come back here, whenever you want.”

“You called me your boyfriend.”

Carisi’s smile was sheepish. “Sorry, I was emotional. We don’t have to label anything—”

“I love you.”

“Oh, Rafael,” Carisi said, planting another kiss on his lips before smiling. “I love you, too. And not just ‘cause you saved my life.”

Barba considered for a moment. “Guess I did, huh?” he laughed. “Well…I’d say that makes us almost even.” He leaned in for another kiss, ignoring the protests from his sore body.


End file.
